Just Open Up To Me
by paigeturner11
Summary: A story about the psychological struggles Hermione faces after the war, and how Ron and his family are there to help her out. Reflects Ron and Hermione's relationship. Please read and REVIEW :D Disclaimer: I do not own anything. J K Rowling is a genius.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, my newest fanfic! I don't exactly know where I'm going with the storyline, but we'll see :) Also, this is my first time writing M-rated kind of scenes, so I'm sorry if it's bad, and if so, please tell me so I can fix it! I'm also trying to be tasteful here.**

**Enjoy! xx**

"Just open up to me, Hermione, for Merlin's sake. Let me comfort you. Let me feel like I can actually do something for you."

"Oh, so this is all about you now, is it, Ronald?"

"You know bloody well that's not what I meant."

Ron's last words where followed by the sound of a slamming door and Ron's heavy footsteps pounding down the stairwell and away from her. It was the first night that Ron and Hermione had been alone since the war, and what had begun as a relaxing and special occasion had quickly turned into one filled with hurt and anger – with one of the couples' regular rows. Molly and Arthur had taken Percy out to dinner, deciding now was a good time to begin to get to know their son again. George was staying at Angelina's tonight, the pair seeing more and more of each other since the war and the loss of Fred, finding comfort and laughter in each other's company. Harry had taken Ginny out for a romantic dinner, knowing full well that Ron and Hermione both wanted and needed their space. And now that had all been ruined, simply because Ron had wanted to talk about how Hermione was coping. Sufficed to say, he thought he was doing the gentlemanly thing.

Storming down the stairs, Ron was fuming. He was only trying to help Hermione. He understood that she might not want to talk about her own emotional problems because she felt like he was suffering enough at the moment, but he imagined this relationship to be a little more about sharing and a little less on independency. He was sick of Hermione being the strong, dependable one around him all the time. He wanted to be the shoulder she cried on, the one who held her while she sobbed and eased her pain, even if only a little bit. He didn't want her running off to Harry or Ginny all the time, thinking he had enough on his plate. It was his job and his wish to make room for her, and that's what he was doing – she just wasn't filling that space. So he'd tried to discuss it with her, and she'd blown up at him, in true Hermione fashion. And he'd responded in kind, in even truer Ron fashion.

Ron made it out the front door and headed toward the old and wonky tree standing haphazardly in the yard. Stopping for a moment to catch his breath he rested both hands on the thick bough that stretched just above his head, before pulling himself up. He climbed only a little further before settling in his favourite spot, where two braches crossed over very close to the trunk to form a seat. Breathing deeply and trying not to sink into the dark place that he had banished himself from for so long, he closed his eyes.

OoOoO

Hermione watched Ron's receding back with regret. She knew he was only trying to help her overcome some of the hurt she'd been attempting to mend in him in the past few weeks, but she felt like a burden. It felt safer running to Harry and Ginny when she felt the tears well in her eyes, because between the two of them they could share her pain. She didn't want to deposit it all on Ron, when he had enough to deal with himself. They'd stayed up late at night over the past few weeks, talking through Ron's guilt over leaving her and Harry on their hunt, and over not being able to save Fred during the war. She was somewhat surprised when he had let his tears fall and the sobs he'd been keeping inside so long to wrack his chest, but she thought it was good for him. And it showed her just how much he cared. For her, for Harry, and for everyone.

She'd spoiled their evening together, she knew it. He'd stormed off because she'd snapped at him, when in fact she knew he was doing to kind-hearted and loving thing in asking whether she was alright. And now he'd stormed down the stairs and away from her. Suddenly it struck her just how similar this situation was to the time he left just before the war; they'd been a fight because Ron was feeling excluded, and he'd left. But, surely he'd come back this time, wouldn't he? He wouldn't storm out of his own house and not return? Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest, sweat breaking out across her top lip, and she was scared. Scared that she would never see Ron again.

She hurled herself at the door, grasping the handle and putting her full force behind it. She hardly heard the heavy wood slam into the wall behind it as she clattered down the staircase, her breath coming in short and frequent gasps. She finally found herself in the sweeping backyard, the grass freshly shortened only the day before. Unaware of the tears rolling down her cheeks, she began to call Ron's name in the red light of the sunset, running over the grass toward the back fence. Seeing no one, she couldn't help but sink to her knees and press the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Ron," she repeated to herself, until it became a near-silent prayer.

**OoOoO**

When the sound of Hermione running into the yard drew Ron from his self-pitying reverie, he opened his eyes and watched her search frantically for him. Sitting up straighter, his eyes creased in concern as he watched her sob, eventually falling to her knees not far from the base of the tree in which he sat. He climbed hurriedly out of his seat and dropped the last metre to reach the ground before setting off at a run toward her. Apparently she wasn't aware of his presence because she stayed where she was, whispering his name over and over again. He put his hand on her back, kneeling beside her, and felt her jump.

"'Mione, I'm not leaving. Oh god, I didn't know you'd think that… I'm sorry," he said frantically, trying to get her to calm her breathing.

Turning and rising to her knees, she threw her arms around him and sobbed into his neck, holding him so tightly he was finding it difficult to draw breath.

"Oh god, Ron, I thought you were l-leaving me again," she said breathlessly, "I thought you were gone and it was all my f-fault."

"It's not your fault. I promised you after that time, I would never leave you again. I'll stick by that promise Hermione, and you need to believe it."

Nodding, Hermione sank a little in his arms, emotionally exhausted, and said, "It_ is _my fault. I didn't let you in. I thought it would be best for us, but I think that plan was a bit of a mistake."

Ron chuckled then, relieved that Hermione had come to realise that he was just trying to do the right thing. He hugged her tightly and felt her hands tighten on the back of his shirt in response. Pulling back slightly, he took in her tear stained face and ran the back of one hand over her cheek, feeling it pull slightly on the damp surface. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into him.

"How 'bout we go upstairs and talk about what's going on with you, yeah?" he suggested, hoping against hope that she would accept so they could start figuring this out.

She nodded and he rose, pulling her with him and into the house. He led her by the hand to his room, and she sank onto his bed, laying her head on his pillow and pulling her hair out of her way. He lay beside her and rose up on one elbow to rest his head in one cradled palm. He wanted to hear and see everything; to really listen to what she elected to share with him. He'd take anything she offered; lately he had just felt like there was an emotional door that had closed between them, and he'd do anything to fling that door open. They were close, and now it was all up to her.

**OoOoO**

Hermione owed this to Ron, she could see that now. He wanted so desperately to help her, and she needed to make things right between them, to put a stop to this ever-growing emotional distance between them that she herself had created. She looked up at him, his face earnest and loving, and she knew he would be there for her no matter what. And she also knew that she wanted him to be. Needed him to be. So she drew in a deep and shuddering breath and began.

"First of all, I'm worried about my parents. I still can't believe they're living on the other side of the world and have no idea I even exist, and that I'm their daughter," she said, hastily brushing a stray tear from her face, "And there's a little part of me that doesn't want to go to Australia and restore their memories. That part of me doesn't want to face them again, doesn't want to see how angry and hurt they're going to be. And I also know they'll try to persuade me to stay in Australia with them, which obviously I don't want to do. Of course I love them and I want them back, I just… don't want to face it right now."

Ron smoothed some hair back off her forehead and nodded before saying, "I get that. Maybe you don't _have_ to face it right now. Focus on mending yourself first before you think about restoring their memories. As long as doing that isn't going to make you feel guilty, it's probably the best option. That way when you do go to them, you'll be one hundred percent happy that you're there."

Hermione smiled at Ron's response. It was mature and well thought out, and she appreciated it. She also agreed with him, which was extraordinary in itself. He understood her and she knew that his suggestion was the best option for her, and for the first time in a long time she could freely make the decision based on that factor alone.

"What else?" asked Ron in a whisper, evidently hoping she would share a bit more.

"I'm worried about you and your family, and Harry. We all went through so much that it just seems like it might never actually end. What if this _thing_ just rules our lives forever and Harry can never escape it? And what happens if your family stays just as involved and keeps getting hurt? It's too hard to watch, Ron."

This time Ron looked as though he was close to tears, but they were blinked away and Ron sought to reassure her.

"That won't happen, 'Mione. Most of the Death Eaters have been rounded up now, and more are getting caught every day. I can't promise you something similar won't happen in the future, but for now at least, we're safe. And we'll get through this, I know we will."

Hermione was glad Ron hadn't tried to convince her that nothing would ever hurt her again. She was sick of hearing people say that now that Voldemort had been destroyed no one would be harmed by dark wizards in the future – it was an unrealistic claim that only caused Hermione to worry more. Ron knew her well enough not to dumb things down just because she was feeling insecure; he told her the truth, and tried to comfort her because of it. He didn't treat her like a child and try and protect her from the dangers that life presented them. Hermione thought that Ron grew out of that quite some time ago.

"I can tell there's something else," Ron continued, "Something big."

Hermione knew he'd figure it out. There _was _something else bothering her, and it was something big. It was also something she hadn't shared with Harry or Ginny. This thing had been eating her up inside for the past however many months, and she wanted it out.

"I haven't told anyone else about this, because I know no one can do anything to help. But… I want to tell you," Hermione said, tears beginning to well in her eyes, "It's the reason I've been wearing long sleeved shirts all summer, even though it's so bloody hot."

Ron sat up as Hermione rolled back the left sleeve on her shirt, revealing the place where Bellatrix had scrawled that foul word upon her arm. But now it wasn't just a scar; it was red and raw, with the marks left by Hermione's own fingernails making it more pronounced. There was fresh blood there, as well as scabs where older cuts were healing. Tears were coursing down Hermione's face by now.

"I just c-can't stop having nightmares about her t-torturing me," Hermione sobbed, "And then I wake up and there's blood e-everywhere. So I try not sleeping b-but I can't because I'm just so tired so I fall asleep and she's there again and she j-just won't leave!"

Hermione continued to ramble into Ron's shoulder, having fallen into his embrace, and mumble words he couldn't quite understand. Tears stung his eyes and his heart broke a little at the thought of Hermione waking up scared every night in Ginny's room with her arm bleeding and images of Bellatrix fleeing her mind with no one to run to. He decided there and then it wouldn't happen anymore.

"Well, from now on you'll be sleeping in my room so I can find a way to make it stop."

**OoOoO**

Hermione looked up at Ron through puffy eyes, grateful for the way he had actively made the decision for her to stay in his room. Usually she would argue that being her boyfriend did not provide him with an excuse to make decisions on her behalf, but this time, she was glad. For the few weeks they had been back at the Burrow since the war, she had been waking up nightly in Ginny's room, just as she had described to Ron; bleeding and terrified. Most nights Ginny's bed was empty – she had taken to sharing long walks with Harry at ungodly hours because Molly wouldn't usually let them spend time alone when she was awake – or she was sound asleep and Hermione felt bad waking her. Now, maybe, there would be some respite for her.

"That would be good," Hermione sniffled, "But your mum is never going to agree to it, you and I both know that."

"I'll have a talk to her tomorrow," Ron said, kissing the top of her head tenderly, "I'm sick of all this sneaking around and hiding. There'll be more chance she'll agree if I'm honest with her."

Again, Hermione was glad it was Ron, in this case, making the decisions. She let him. All she felt at the moment was weak, small and afraid. And for once since the war began, she succumbed to those feelings. The ones she'd endeavoured to hide from everyone – including herself – so that she wouldn't let herself lose it.

"So… I don't have to talk to her?" she whispered.

"I can tell you don't want to," Ron said, hitting the spot yet again, "Plus, she's going to go all mushy and motherly anyway, but if you're not there at the time at least I'll get a straight answer out of her."

Hermione felt as though she could breathe a little easier now, and tightened her grip on Ron's shoulders, thankful that she had him. Ron looked down at her, his gaze full of love and an urgent need to protect her, which had come back full force today rather than sitting somewhere behind his eyes like it had since Voldemort's death. She lifted her head off his shoulder to kiss him soundly on the lips, and he moved one hand to the nape of her neck, tangled in her hair, to deepen the kiss. Something unspoken was passing between them; a knowledge that they both wanted and needed to be physically close to each other at this moment. Hermione gasped as Ron's hand found the gap between her long sleeved shirt and her pyjama shorts, caressing and squeezing the skin there. She ran her hands down the length of his arms, feelings the muscle beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and tugged on its hem.

When they broke apart to catch their breath, Hermione said, "Take off my shirt Ron. I feel like I can't breathe."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise, knowing she had never taken off her shirt in front of him before. His hands went to the bottom of his own first, and he stripped off, obviously to make her a little more comfortable. Although Hermione had seen him in this state of undress before, it meant something more tonight. Now Ron's hand settled on the bottom of her shirt, feeling tight and restricting in the heat, and she nodded in response to his gaze. He went slowly, not taking his eyes off hers until the rising fabric obscured her face, and then it was off and his eyes were still there, staring at hers. She knew it was taking all of his self-control not to let them wander all over her torso, bare except for her bra, and she'd never felt more respected.

Despite herself, she giggled and said, "You can look, you know."

"Thank Merlin," Ron said, before dropping his gaze to her chest.

His eyes immediately darkened and she could tell, being in such close proximity, that his pants had tightened. She, however, had no more time for conscious thought because he reached out with one hand and cupped her through her bra, squeezing gently. Closing her eyes, she felt him pull away the fabric covering her left breast and her nipple tightened as he closed it within his finger and thumb, rolling and pinching it until her breathing was heavy and laboured. She hardly noticed when Ron unclasped her bra at the back and drew it off her shoulders, and clutched him tightly when he dropped his face to take each nipple into his mouth in turn. To her surprise, the sound of her own moans sounded foreign to her, but she was glad they were spurring him on.

He lifted his face back to hers, kissing her softly and laying her down on the bed so that he was above her, their bodies perfectly aligned. Her arms slackened around his neck and she let them drop onto the mattress on either side of her head. Hermione saw Ron pause to inspect the inside of her left forearm, his fingers gently tracing her scars.

"I love you," he said.

She whispered the same in reply, and he sat back on his heels, somewhere close to her ankles, looking at her with a smile on his face. His hands made their way up her legs, stroking and tickling and caressing until she was shaking beneath him. When his hand reached the bottom of her shorts and latched on, he once again questioned her with her eyes. Hermione took a deep breath and nodded, needing to feel satisfied. And Ron's hand stroking her between her legs was almost enough, until he filled her with his fingers, leaning over to kiss her hard on the lips at the same. She arched into his hand and groaned into his mouth until she felt the heat concentrating in her gut, and she knew she was almost there. Pulling away from his lips she raised one hand to tighten in his hair as she cried out, rising off the bed and falling shakily back to earth. Spent and happy, she looked up at him, his face only inches from her own.

"Not to spoil the moment or anything, but that was fucking hot, Hermione," he said in appreciation.

She laughed then and touched his cheek, replying, "Thank you. Do you want… me to do anything for you?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Tonight was about you. Was that… okay, though?" he asked, looking a little insecure.

"It was amazing," Hermione said, truthfully, "You have talented hands."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead before pulling her up to sit in front of him. He helped her put on her discarded underwear and then his t-shirt, throwing her long-sleeved one across the room to crumple in a dark corner. When she tried to hide her forearm in her lap, Ron pulled it into a more comfortable position, even though the scar was visible.

"You've never been more beautiful, 'Mione."

**I hope that was tasteful enough. I feel as though this time would be more about comfort in a passionate way than an "Oh my god I need you right now" kind of scenario :P That might happen later! Reviews are always welcomed :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry sorry sorry! It's taken me WAY too long to put up the second chapter, but I tried to make it extra good for you guys because of it. Life is pretty busy for me at the moment but I plan to get cracking on instalment three later today, which will hopefully go up a lot quicker. Again, I'm sorry, and please review! xx**

Ron paused on the landing outside Ginny's room the following morning after having put Hermione to bed late, hoping she had been exhausted enough not to dream. He tapped quietly on the heavy wood, and knew immediately he had been wrong. Hermione closed the door softly behind her and then muffled her sobs in Ron's shirt, and he clutched her tightly.

"Sorry," she whispered, drying her eyes.

"Don't apologise, 'Mione," he responded, "I thought maybe you were too tired to dream last night, but I should've just stayed with you."

"It's ok," she said, before continuing, "Why are you up so early?"

Ron glanced towards the stairwell before answering, "I'm going to talk to mum now. Before anyone else is up. That way we can get a definite answer and you can get a little relief."

OoOoO

Hermione smiled, salty tears still staining her cheeks, and knew that she was lucky to have someone like Ron. Someone that, now, actively thought of what she wanted, what she needed, and what she deserved. She took a deep breath and nodded to him, brushing her hand over his forearm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Her heart was beating double time in her chest with anticipation, convinced Molly would be against the idea of her youngest son and his girlfriend sharing a room, no matter the circumstances.

"Well, I'll go have a shower while you're down there then. Wash some of this off," she said, gesturing to her forearm, clearly visible below the hem of Ron's shirt that she was still wearing, "And then we'll meet in your room?"

Ron nodded, running one hand through his already tousled hair, before saying, "Sounds good. I'll see you soon then."

Hermione watched him as he turned and began making his way down the stairs. Before he reached the third stair however, he turned back and pinned her with his gaze.

"I love you, Hermione."

The tenderness and directness with which he said it was enough to make tears spring to her eyes, and she grinned at him. Taking this as an adequate response, he smiled in return and continued downwards to the kitchen.

OoOoO

Molly was seated at the table when Ron entered, nursing a steaming cup of tea between her palms and reading one of Gilderoy Lockhart's many "informative" manuals. Suppressing a snort, Ron cleared his throat to announce his entrance, and his mother looked up, happy to see him.

"Ron! I haven't seen you up this early since last summer on the morning Hermione was due to arrive," she said, bemused.

Ron's cheeks reddened at his mother's impeccable memory, and he took the seat across from her before responding, "I've got something really important to talk to you about Mum. And… I didn't want anyone else interrupting us."

Molly's smile disappeared immediately, only to be replaced by a worried frown and furrowed brows.

"If you got that precious girl pregnant Ronald Weasley, I swear to Merl–"

"No no no no!" Ron interrupted, "Nothing like that! It _is_ about Hermione though."

"Go on."

"She's… not coping very well with what happened before the battle. I'm just going to have to tell you, because I swore Bill to secrecy but you need to know to understand. At one stage, we ended up at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix tortured her."

Molly gasped, one hand clapped over her mouth and tears springing to her eyes. Surprisingly though, she did not interrupt her son.

"She used her dagger to… carve 'Mudblood' into her arm. And every night since she's woken up scratching at it herself, enough to make it bleed more. She doesn't want anyone else to know, but she needs help. I wanted to ask your permission to move her into my room, onto Harry's bed, and to move Harry in with George."

Molly was crying silently across the table, one hand across her mouth and the tears gathering where her fingers met her face. Ron knew then that she was going to agree; the mother in her couldn't say no to the Hermione. He also knew that no matter what, he would find some way to help his girlfriend.

"Oh Ron, of course," she said hoarsely, "I wish you'd told me sooner and she could have moved then."

"I didn't find out myself until last night," Ron admitted, "But thanks mum – this means a lot. To me and Hermione."

Molly stood up and moved around the table to embrace her son. Ron returned the hug, thankful that Hermione had a surrogate mother in Molly until she was ready to go and find her own parents again.

Ron pulled away and smiled down at his mother, saying, "I'll go tell Hermione. We'll move her today."

"That's fine. I'll talk to her later. But remember – separate beds." Despite her tears, Molly was adamant on this point, just as Ron knew she would be. And he and Hermione would stick to that rule no matter what – out of respect for his mother's trust and willingness to help them.

OoOoO

After her shower, Hermione had changed into clothes appropriate for what was shaping up to be another beautifully sunny day and sat on Ron's bed, waiting for him. While he was in the kitchen she took the time to heal the scratch marks she had made around her scar, watching the skin re-join again, but noticing that the redness and the feeling of rawness still lingered. She wondered how exactly Ron was going to be able to help her – not that she doubted him, but she was sceptical that anything would work. It was a psychological problem, not a physical one. If only it was as simple as that. She could trot off down to St Mungo's and see a healer who would make everything ok – but everyone in the magical community knew scars like Hermione's, made with such dark magic, could never be removed.

As she finished up she heard Ron approaching on the stairs and felt her heart skip a beat and then begin to thunder in her chest. The door flew back against the wall as the redhead bounded through, throwing himself on his bed hard enough to make her leave the mattress momentarily.

Ron leaned in close to her, lips brushing the shell of her ear and both hands on the mattress either side of her hips and whispered, "She said yes."

"She said yes?" she confirmed, turning her head slightly so she could like at him.

And then it hit her – Molly said yes.

OoOoO

Ron was trying insanely hard not to snog Hermione senseless, with the promise he had just made his mother fresh in his mind. No sharing beds, by Molly's definition, also meant during the day. And that's what they were doing now – Ron's hands were deliciously close to Hermione's arse, and she was smiling up at him, her head tilted to one side and her slightly wet hair hanging over one shoulder. When she reached up to kiss the underside of his jaw, he forgot everything he'd promised his mother and flicked his wand at the door, locking and silencing it.

He lowered his mouth to hers roughly, plunging his tongue in her mouth to entangle with her own, and lowered his torso onto hers so that she lay on the mattress beneath him. As their heated kissing continued and his left hand massaged her hip, the guilt began to play at his mind. He tried to push it away as Hermione let a moan escape her lips but he couldn't.

Pulling his lips reluctantly from hers and resting on one elbow, he smiled sadly.

"I also made Mum a promise," he explained, "and what we're doing right now is kind of breaking that promise."

Hermione bounded off the bed quicker than he'd ever seen her move, and stood glaring down at him with her hands on her hips. Ron tried not to think about how sexy she looked when she got riled up, and simply focus on what was making her annoyed with him.

"Ronald! Why didn't you tell me before! What was the promise?"

"Calm down, 'Mione," Ron said, rising to walk over to her, "I promised her that because you're sleeping in here now that we wouldn't take that as a reason to jump in the sack together. Technically, we didn't-"

"Tech-nic-ally," Hermione said, slapping his arm with every syllable, "We did just that! Ugh – I feel terrible!"

"'Cmon," he said, drawing her into the circle of his arms and pleased to note she didn't pull away, "You can't deny you were enjoying it. We'll just try not to let it happen again."

"Mmm. Why can I never stay angry at you these days?" Hermione asked, looking up at him with an amused smile on her face.

"Because you're just as horny as me. And being angry with me is going to get you nowhere."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, I'm glad to bring this chapter to you a little quicker! I hope you enjoy it. Also, I'm not going to be one of those authors that holds her fanfic ransom for reviews, but I would love a bit more feedback from you guys – it doesn't have to be much, but it would mean the world to me. Thank you :) xx**

Hermione sat with her ankles crossed, leaning against the warm wood of the garden shed at the Burrow. Above her, Harry, Ron, Ginny and George were engaged in a fully-fledged game of four-person Quidditch, and despite Ron's encouragement, she had declined the offer to join them. Instead, she had elected to stay on solid ground and read her book, every so often pausing to watch them as the raced around the sky. After the events of this morning she was feeling much better about her scar, and had worn a short sleeved t-shirt today instead of suffocating from heat like she had been.

As Ron swooped low to smile and wink at her, Hermione remembered the moment they had shared that morning on his bed. The way his hands had gripped at her skin, and how wanted he made her feel. She was still embarrassed about her body, thinking it far from perfect, but he was able to make her forget that unsettling feeling, even if only temporarily. She wondered – with concern, she admitted to herself – how she and Ron would be able to progress in their relationship physically if they were forced to stick to Molly's rule both day and night. Flashes of Ron pressing her seductively up against the shed she was currently leaning on filled her mind and she quickly pushed the images away before the blush creeping into her cheeks could be noticed. Looking down to hide her face, she stared intently at the pages before her, before realising she couldn't focus on the words and her eyes were drawn upwards, up to the place she never wanted to lay eyes on again.

Mudblood.

She suddenly felt lightheaded, as though the happy and enthusiastic yells of the friends soaring above her seemed distant and muted. She stumbled to her feet with the tears clouding her vision and ran toward the trees surrounding the Burrow, almost falling in her haste to get away. She thought she heard the surprised cries from her friends but ignored them as she tore through the trees, freely sobbing now and frantically searching her pockets for the little bottle she'd kept by her side since this whole thing had started. She fell to her knees and focused on her forearm, rubbing Dittany over the word, scrubbing as hard as she possibly could.

And when it didn't work, she could only think of one more thing to do.

OoOoO

Ron saw Hermione rise unsteadily to her feet and run at the trees, and threw himself forward on his brown, hurtling to the ground in his desperation to reach her. As soon as he hit the ground he stumbled and managed to maintain his balance and ran after her, yelling her name. When she didn't turn to respond he knew something was really wrong, but was too far behind to stop her physically. She fell to her knees ahead of him, and he saw the small bottle of Dittany that lay discarded on the ground. And then he saw her right hand reach around to her back pocket, pulling out her wand. He only hoped he could sprint fast enough.

"HERMIONE! DON'T DO IT!" he yelled as she raised the wood just above her shoulder, sobbing loudly.

He lunged in her direction as he heard her cry, "R-REDUC-" and managed to knock the wand from her grasp and send her tumbling in the opposite direction.

Gasping for air and struggling to his knees he shuffled quickly over to her, pulling her upright and grasping her shoulders.

"What the _fuck_?"

OoOoO

Ron's words made her realise what she'd been about to do. She was covered in leaves and mud – in Ron's haste to stop her spell he'd sent her completely sprawling, and sobs were still escaping her. But she realised now just how frantic she'd been – she would have killed herself. Pulled to her knees by Ron's vice-like grip she felt herself begin to shake, looking up into his eyes, filled with fear and panic.

"I-I don't know w-what to do!" was all she could manage, tears still flowing freely down her face, "Ron, please, just fix it. Fix me. I c-can't… I can't!"

Hermione let Ron crush her to his chest, clinging to him as though he was the only thing keeping her alive. And really, he was. She had never felt so broken.

Distantly she comprehended that George, Ginny and Harry had entered the clearing and where standing to one side, faces creased with concern and pain for her. She wondered if they would begin to distance themselves from her, not being able to truly comprehend her pain, or know how to help. Banishing the thought from her mind, she simply concentrated on Ron's next words.

"I'll fix it Hermione, I swear to fucking Merlin," he whispered hoarsely, pulling back so as to rid some of the leaves from her hair and wipe the dirt and tears from her cheeks.

"Thank you for stopping me," she whispered, ashamed.

"'Mione, look at me," he said, and she brought her eyes to meet his before he continued, "That's what I'm _here_ for. You have to talk to me next time, okay? You can't just keep running now. Not from me."

Hermione felt the tears leak from her eyes again as she nodded, wrapping her arms around Ron's neck and burying her face beneath his chin. He was right; she needed to trust him, to put her safety – and her sanity – in his hands as well as her own. As her mother used to say; a problem shared is a problem halved. The problem being that this was one hell of a problem. Trying not to think too much, she closed her eyes and inhaled Ron's scent, loving the way it calmed her racing heart instantly.

OoOoO

Fuck, Ron thought to himself, I almost lost her – again. And this time it wasn't to someone else's hand – it was her own. And it's getting bloody hard to tell if she's coping at all. As she tucked her head under his chin he let himself breathe a small sigh of relief – she'd at least agreed to talk to him now instead of hurtling into the nearest woody area and attempting to blow her own sodding arm off, which was always nice. Resting his chin on her head and looking over to where the others were standing, he could see the concern in their eyes, so he nodded at them to come forward.

Ron stood, helping Hermione, and let her be enveloped into the arms of Harry, Ginny and George in turn. He knew she'd feel guilty about worrying them, but letting them be here for her now was just another reminder that she was never as alone as she felt she was. When they walked off to pack the Quidditch gear back into the shed he took her hand and drew her close, kissing her softly.

"I think now would be a good time to move your stuff," he said.

"Brilliant plan," smiled Hermione, whispering against his lips, "Thank you for this."

"You don't have to thank me for anything," Ron replied, "Ever."

OoOoO

Harry collected up the last armful of his stuff and set off down one flight of stairs to reach George's room. He could see the expression on George's face was somewhere between happiness to have a new roommate and resentment at the situation. Harry was after all taking Fred's place in this room, and he felt awful about it. The thought had crossed his mind to make up some excuse to stay with Ginny but he knew in this household that kind of thing would never fly.

George knew exactly what he was thinking, and said, "I'm sorry mate, it's just… you know…" with tears in his eyes.

"I know, George – and I'm sorry. I'd say 'I understand', but I don't want to sound like wanker."

This at least earned a small smile from the redhead.

"Besides," Harry continued, hauling his stuff on the ground at the end of his new bed, "There could be perks to me living with you. I could tell you some seriously embarrassing stories about Ron that involve him yearning for Hermione for about 6 years."

George let out a bellowing laugh at that and threw one arm around Harry's shoulders.

"My dear man, I think you are going to fit in here _just fine._"

OoOoO

In the room above them, Hermione had neatly put away her things and was now sitting on Harry's – her – bed and reading again, trying not to be sucked back into that place she had so unwillingly visited earlier in the day. Ron was downstairs helping his mother with dinner but as she turned the page she heard his footsteps on the stairs. Hermione tried to concentrate on the words in front of her and not on her now-racing heart. But when the door opened and Ron did not progress into the room, she looked up questioningly. He was leaning against the doorframe and staring down at her with an amused smile on his face.

"What?" she asked shyly.

"I just can't believe you tidied. Already." he responded with a shake of his head before coming to sit on the bed in front of her.

She turned and shuffled backwards, resting her back on his chest and spreading her legs out contentedly, returning to her book as he leant against the headboard and made himself comfortable. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she could feel Ron begin to get agitated. He was bored, and she wasn't surprised.

"I can't believe you're living in my room now," he said.

Hermione simply hummed in response.

"You know," he continued, "Dinner's gonna be ready in like, ten minutes."

Another hum.

"There's a lot of stuff we could do in ten minutes," Ron said, brushing her hair to the side to gain access to her neck, which he began to kiss lightly; teasingly.

"Ronald. What about your mother's rule?"

"It's ok Hermione. I won't let things go too far this time."

Hermione knew that was ridiculous but could no longer argue as he felt Ron's hand on her thigh and he resumed kissing her neck. She let the book slide from her lap to the floor as she turned, kneeling in front of Ron in order to kiss his lips thoroughly. She ran her fingers through his silky hair as left hand, previously on her thigh, wandered up her side and around to cup her bottom. She shuffled closer, pressing their chests together so that he had to strain to keep their lips fused together. As Ron began to trail his other hand upwards towards her breast and her breathing began to shallow, they were ripped apart by a piercing yell.

"Ron! Hermione! Dinner's ready dears!"

Hermione rested her forehead against Ron's, noticing his flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

"I am _so _glad, she did not come up here to tell us that," she whispered, brushing her fingers through Ron's fringe.

"Merlin, me too. Almost got a little out of hand. Sorry – I _was _going to stop," he replied.

"Ronald Weasley, you don't fool me for a second."

OoOoO

Ron was frustrated. Sexually and otherwise. For one, he had no clue how tonight was going to go with Hermione's nightmares – he had only one half-hearted idea as to how to distract her, and he was sure it wasn't going to work. And secondly, all he wanted was some alone time with his girlfriend when she wasn't crying to kiss her and touch her, and hopefully go a little further than they went last time. And that was next to impossible in this house with their shared guilt over doing anything to break his promise to Molly as well as all the bloody interruptions.

But still, it was all worth it – seeing that fleeting smile on her face and the warmth being to reach her eyes when she really laughed – that made all the promising and the missing out worthwhile.

Because he loved her.

**Again, please review – I'm desperate for feedback! Next chapter will be up as soon as I can type it ;) xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, next instalment. Enjoy! Also, if you're liking my writing, you might also like to check out my tumblr, and please FOLLOW me :P go to my profile for the link because it won't come up on the screen if i put it in here!**

**Also, I'd like to send a big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter – the extra feedback was so so appreciated, so keep it coming! This chapter is dedicated to **_rhmac12_ **for their most wonderful review :) Thank you so so much.**

That night, Ron and Hermione sat on Ron's bed and talked. Ron was trying to get Hermione's attention away from the events of the day and of Malfoy Manor, and thought that instilling good, positive thoughts in her mind might allow her to sleep peacefully. He knew trying to distract one of the brightest minds of their time was probably futile and one of his less sensible ideas, but it was really the only one he had. Halfway through their discussion about Professor McGonagall's love life, her eyes began to droop and her yawns became more frequent.

"Alright, I think it's time for bed," Ron said, running one hand through her hair and smiling.

"You're probably right," Hermione said, biting her lip and glancing at her bed nervously.

"Hey," he responded, "Don't go looking all nervous now 'Mione. That was _so_ not the idea."

"Sorry," she said smiling and leaning over to kiss him softly, "Goodnight Ron."

"Goodnight, Hermione. I love you."

She reached over to brush his fringe out of eyes before responding, "I love you too. So much Ron."

Kissing her again, he let her go, watching her pad across the floor toward the bed, crawling under the covers and turning to face him. His heart swelled at the image; his beautiful girlfriend lying only metres away from him. As the room darkened she closed her eyes and he watched as gradually, ever so slowly, her breathing slowed and she settled into sleep. He stayed awake for maybe an hour afterward, just watching her breathe, live, next to him. He was just thinking that he could get used to this when her piercing scream forced him to lunge for his wand and cast a silencing charm on the room before she woke everyone in the Burrow.

OoOoO

There she was, standing above her, dagger in hand, spitting in her face. Quick breathing. Knife waving. Crooked teeth, so close. The sound of her own cries, the feeling of her tears leaking down her face the wrong way – down near her eyes. The sound of Ron, Ron yelling her name, and the part of her mind screaming back to him, screaming for him to save her. The pain, the searing burning pain that threatened to engulf her. Her actual scream, so foreign sounding, so broken.

She was shaking her, making it all worse, and things were getting blurry. Bellatrix was fuzzy at the edges, and suddenly, she was Ron. And he was shaking her, and the screaming stopped.

"Hermione," Ron said groggily, "It's okay. She's gone – she's never coming back now."

Her throat hoarse, all Hermione could manage to do was shake her head as she sat up, feeling the fat tears rolling down her cheeks, and bury her face in her hands. She as so ashamed that she couldn't be stronger, be the rock that Ron had had to be for the past few weeks, even suffering so much himself. She felt so small, so insecure. Rocking herself slowly, she felt the bed dip slightly as Ron sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms like he had down countless times recently. She let the soothing words, caresses and the kisses wash over her and began to calm down, knowing her terror had been irrational all along anyway.

Turning her face towards Ron's she said, "I'm so pathetic Ron. I'm sorry."

OoOoO

At Hermione's words he felt a little tug at his heart. How this beautiful woman could ever think herself weak and useless was beyond him.

"I should be the one saying sorry. I haven't been trying hard enough. I should have figured out how to fix this all by now."

He could only blame himself. He listened to her refutations and quieted her with a kiss, rocking her back to a semi-peaceful sleep, waking her every so often to make sure another nightmare didn't disturb her, and left her dozing as dawn broke. Not bothering to pull on a shirt, he descended the stairs and made it to the side of the garage before falling to his knees and sobbing. He just didn't know exactly how to handle it all – the ups and downs of having a family recovering from an incredible loss and a girlfriend so beautiful yet so vulnerable because of the hell they had just experienced. At times he felt as though he was walking on air, surrounded by loving friends and family and feeling so _alive_, and then there were others where it was as though the ground was up around his neck and he was just suffocated by the terror and grief holding onto his heart.

At that moment the rage Ron had been feeling and hiding inside burst out, he stood and swung his fist once, twice, three times – hitting the wall of the garage so hard he made a splintery dent and bloodied his knuckles. He repaired the shed with a rough flick of his wand but left his hand the way it was, wanting to feel the force of his frustration.

The scuffle from within and the red hair that poked out around the doorframe with curious eyes came as a shock to Ron.

"Are you alright son?" asked Arthur, looking a little worse for wear himself.

"Sorry Dad, didn't mean to wake the whole house up," Ron said sheepishly.

Arthur shrugged and replied, "I don't think you did. I've been up a little while myself. Can't sleep."

"Me either," Ron said, walking into the dusty room and looking around, "I'm too worried about everything. Especially Hermione."

Arthur followed him, looking concerned, "Your mother told me what happened. Another nightmare last night, ey?"

Ron only nodded in response, sorting through the Muggle rubbish his dad was constantly collecting with an amused smile. Even though he'd grown up finding his father's job embarrassing, Ron had come to learn Arthur's enthusiasm and contagious interest enjoyable. He would often spend the odd afternoon over the summer break in here with him, taking alarm clocks and other Muggle items apart to see how they ran without magic. He missed those days, and found himself planning to do it again more often now. As he sat down beside his dad at the workbench, Ron noticed how worn out he looked now. Undoubtedly he hadn't been getting much sleep himself.

"Dad, I know I'm going to sound like a right tosspot saying this, but," Ron paused to paw his uninjured hand through his hair, "I love you – and Mum – and I really do think in the end, this'll get better. Maybe a little easier, at least."

Arthur looked down, fiddling with one of his many rubber ducks before saying, "I know son. I love you too. And, I've always been so proud of you – I don't think I said it often enough. But there you go."

His last words made Ron's chest swell a little. His father had only said once that he was proud of him – when he got his Prefect badge. And sure, that had been a good moment for him, but it wasn't when he really wanted to hear it. He wanted to know his parents were proud of him for other things; the little things. Not just when he got recognised for something, or got some stupid badge to pin on the front of his robe. And finally, he felt like that had happened.

"Thanks Dad. That means a lot."

Just then, something caught Ron's eye in the emerging sunlight. It was a simple plastic box, lying on the wood, covered in a thin film of dust. He wandered around the counter to brush it off and inspect it more closely. Opening it, he found some pots of paint and a few fine paintbrushes, a leaflet with Muggle pictures of children with ridiculous looking faces, and a dirty mirror.

"Dad," he said, indicating to it, "What's this?"

"Muggle's call it 'face painting'. They make their children look silly for special occasions. Strange habit, if you ask me, but fascinating. Some witch or wizard put a spell on this one to make the paint permanent, so I had to bring it back and take off the charms. It's perfectly harmless now."

"Can I borrow it?"

"I'm assuming you've had an idea," Arthur replied with a smile, "Just like I knew you would. Take it."

**WOO! We have progression! :) Don't forget to review and to check out my tumblr if you're one of those people :P xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Again, sorry for the slow update. I hope you enjoy it – keep the wonderful reviews coming!**

Ron made his way back to his room, stowing the face painting kit under his bed before turning to Hermione's. Kneeling beside her, he savoured this moment; when she looked peaceful and truly at rest. He knew these next weeks – months, maybe – were going to be hard, but he knew in the end she would mend and things could return to almost normal. They'd never be the same, but he thought, with his plan, she could be stronger than she'd ever been because of it. Here's hoping, he thought.

Stroking some stray strands of her back off her face, he woke her gently, whispering her name. She cracked up her eyes slowly and smiled sadly at him, making his heart sink ever-so-slightly in his chest.

"Hey," she whispered, sitting up, "Sorry you didn't sleep well."

"I'll do the same thing every night if I have to," he responded with feeling.

"I love you so much Ron. I promise, I can get better. Somehow. Otherwise," she paused, taking a deep breath, "Otherwise… you might not want to be with me anymore."

"Hey," he said, softly, taking her hands in his, "Don't say that. Never say that. I'll always want to be with you, 'Mione. You're it for me."

OoOoO

After the family had eaten breakfast, Ron pulled Hermione aside, and she noticed that Ginny left Harry at the door, kissing him goodbye and heading off with George.

"Ron," she questioned him, "What's going on?"

"You're going to spend the day with Harry. I think you should take it in turns with the family – I'm going to talk to them, one at a time. And then you're going to spend a day with each of them – and they're going to do something for you. I don't know what it'll be, but that's the plan."

"Why?"

"Because this is what you need – different perspectives on how to fix this. This is part of my all new plan, and I need you to trust me, because I honestly think it'll work."

Hermione smiled widely at him and responded, "Ronald. Are you being… logical?"

Ron laughed then, glad to hear her joking, and accepting his idea. He kissed her forehead tenderly before whispering to her, "Meet me at the shed after dinner."

She looked up, a sly and hungry look in her eye, and nodded to him, before turning to Harry, who slung an arm around her shoulders and lead her outside. Ron hoped Harry had something good in mind, but remembering everything he'd endured in his lifetime, he trusted him. He watched them go, somewhat sadly, and made his way to George and Harry's room, trudging slightly on the stairs, the lack of sleep and increased worry weighing him down. Reaching the landing, he opened the door to find the two seated on Harry's bed, waiting for him. Taking a seat on the mattress opposite, he hung his hands between his knees.

"I really need your help, you two," Ron said to George and Ginny, "I need you to spend a day with Hermione – separately – and do what you think's best for her."

George looked puzzled, and said, "Mate, we know she's upset about the battle and everything that's gone on… but what is it that's affecting her more?"

Ron sighed, knowing the entire Weasley family would know about Hermione's torture before the end of the day. He also realised that Hermione wouldn't appreciate him spreading it around, but Ron knew it was something he had to do. He decided to be completely blunt.

"Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her at Malfoy Manor before the battle at Hogwarts," he said, ignoring Ginny's shocked intake of breath and continuing, "She's been wearing those long-sleeve shirts up until a few days ago to hide one of the scars. The one that says 'Mudblood'."

"Fuck. That bitch," George said, exhaling loudly, "Poor Hermione. Count me in Ron."

"Of course. Me too," said Ginny, crying.

OoOoO

Harry and Hermione spent the day sitting on the edge of the lake, paddling their feet and feeling the warm sun on their faces. At first, when Harry had brought her out here, Hermione had simply sat in silence, feeling comfortable around her best friend.

But, not long after, Harry interrupted their silence.

"Hermione, this is what I figure. I think the one you're really going to talk to about all this is Ron, and the only thing I really know how to do with these kind of problems is dwell. And dwelling never really worked out so well for me. So I'm thinking we just need to cry. For as long as we need to, and not be ashamed about it. Because I still want to – _all_ the time, but I feel like I can't because I have to be strong for Ginny and the others. And I know you feel the same way."

By this time soft tears had already begun to leak out of Hermione's eyes, and she said, "I feel like I've cried in front of Ron too much lately, so I'm trying not to."

"I know, Hermione," said Harry, "But you've got to let it out somehow – then that disgusting feeling of holding it in, the one that sits in your chest, will go away."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently, and together, they cried. They didn't make a fuss about it, they just did it – Hermione lay her head on her knees, which were collected close to her chest, and sobbed, while Harry kept his fingers intertwined with hers and sobbed just as hard. He cried for the people he'd lost – he cried from relief, that it was truly over now. He cried for the chance to start a new life. He cried for his own death, and the friends that would have fought on regardless.

Hermione cried for the losses too. She cried for her parents, for Harry and Ron, but mostly for herself. She cried for this feeling of helplessness inside her, this aching chasm that was waxing and waning with time and healing, threatening to engulf her at some points and shrinking almost to the point of disappearance at others.

When they'd finished, Harry turned to face her, crossing his legs and looking her in the face. They both had tearstained cheeks and puffy eyes; two best friends who had been through so much together, and faced just as much alone.

"I love you, Hermione. Not like Ron does, but…" Harry trailed off.

"I know what you mean Harry. I love you too."

"Good. So what's Ron's grand master plan? You think it'll work?"

"I don't know all of it, I don't think. I still get that feeling that he's got something he's keeping from me. But I'm sure he means that in the best way. But the part of the plan _I _know is, I spend a day with every member of the Weasley family, including you of course, and they try to help me in their own way."

She paused before continuing to answer Harry's second question, "And will it work? Only Merlin knows. And man, I hope so."

"You can beat this Hermione. You're the strongest person I know."

She settled into his side and felt his arm wrap around her in a brotherly hug.

"Right back at ya."

OoOoO

While Harry and Hermione were down by the lake, Ron set about on some designs using his new-found face painting kit. For once in his life, he found himself sitting down at his desk to work on something, which made him smile. Hermione had always wanted him to use this desk, give it some purpose, and now, because of her, he was. And this was something that he has decided not to use magic for – he wanted to show Hermione by hand how beautiful and important this scar could become. He knew, with persuasion and help, she could use it for good, not evil.

He just knew.

OoOoO

The family gathered for an early dinner and Ron helped to wash up and then slipped out the back door to meet Hermione. They had chatted at the table about nothing in particular and Ron was dying to know how Hermione's day with Harry had gone. As he approached the somewhat lopsided structure, he noticed her leaning against the wood, smiling at him in the dimming light. She wore a simple floral dress that showed off every luscious curve and it took his breath away. He hadn't noticed how flattering at was when she was just sitting at the table. Also, he had been distracted by all the food.

"Hey beautiful," he said, coming to stand in front of her and giving her a quick kiss.

"Hey yourself," she replied shyly.

"How was your day with Harry?"

Hermione smiled again before replying, "It was good. We sat by the lake and cried for almost the entire day. I feel really… cleansed, I guess is the word. It was helpful. Thank you so much for all this Ron – your idea was brilliant."

"I'm glad it helped. George is going to hang out with you tomorrow, and Ginny will be doing something with you as well, but I'm not sure when."

"So you just told them that I needed help dealing with everything?" Hermione asked, her brow slightly creased.

Ron had known this was coming, and he paused before replying, "No. I told them everything. They needed to know."

Anger flashed behind Hermione's eyes.

"Ronald! You had no right! I thought we'd agreed that what happened in Malfoy Manor would be a secret and that we'd find some way around it! I can't believe you went behind my-"

"Hold on a bloody second!" Ron responded, getting angry himself, "I told you this morning the _entire_ family would be helping out. And yes, I may not have mentioned that I was going to tell them about you being tortured, but bloody hell! We haven't exactly _found some way around it _by keeping it a secret, have we? I thought we'd agreed on working through this together, and I don't think withholding the truth any longer was doing you a world of good, Hermione."

"Don't start talking like you know what's best for me!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but this morning in the kitchen I thought your reaction was a pretty good indication that in this case, I _do _know what's best for you. Have you noticed, Hermione, that I never assume. I check with you for a reason, for Merlin's sake!"

When he saw Hermione's fists clench and her eyes narrow, he knew he was right. She never got physically riled up if she was winning an argument – cold and elusive anger was always her winning combination. She started to stalk off, elbowing him out of the way, but he wasn't going to let her go that easily. Grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him, he muttered "Fuck, I love you" before capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

She pushed at his shoulders violently, catching him off balance and almost sending him onto the grass, before she walked back to the shed and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"If we're at least going to make up this way, I'm going to need something to lean against," she said, before bringing his lips back down to hers.

Casting a silencing charm around him in the now dark space, he dropped his wand to the ground before stepping even closer to deepen the kiss. Hermione's hands were in his hair, scratching his scalp in a way that was instantly turning him on. When Ron palmed her breast she groaned into his mouth, and pulled back.

Looking into his eyes she whispered, "I'm so sorry Ron. You're right – they needed to know."

"You admitting defeat is incredibly sexy," he responded, kissing along her jawline and trailing his tongue down her neck.

Hermione moved her hands down to his hips, squeezing them and making his jeans feel incredibly restricting. She pulled him closer by his belt loops until they were entirely aligned, pressed against one another so there was nothing but a gasp of air between them. Ron's unoccupied hand trailed down her waist to squeeze her bum before passing around to the front, grazing the inside of her thigh beneath the fabric of her dress. Hermione breathed heavily into his ear and nibbled on the lobe, making him wonder when she got this sexy.

He slid his hand further up her inner thigh until his fingers brushed the front of her knickers and she gasped. Looking down at her, he saw that she had closed her eyes and rested her head back on the wall of the shed, and he smiled as he bent to kiss her. As his hand started to move, he felt his own sharp intake of breath as the button of his jeans popped open. And when her small hands started working the zip slowly and brushed against him, he thought he would burst. His hand moved faster as hers slipped beneath the denim and began to feel him, their breaths coming in short bursts together.

Hermione pulled his hand out from under her dress, moving it to her hair, whispering, "It's your turn, this time."

All Ron could was moan in response, and grow harder as her hand travelled below the final piece of fabric and brought him to the point of orgasm. And when it happened he whispered her name and kissed her, putting all the love and lust and tenderness he felt at that moment into the kiss.

When they'd tidied themselves up, she reached up to hug him tenderly and took his hand, leading him inside. They entered the lounge room, where the family sat scattered around the room, engaged in quiet conversation. Ron sat on the armchair by the fire, with Hermione beneath him, resting her back against his legs. They watched Harry and Ginny play chess together on the small table in the middle of the room, and in that moment, neither had felt more like a real part of something.

**Thanks for reading, and please review! xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Super super sorry! Semester break is coming up soon so I'll try my hardest to churn out a few more chapters then! Hope you're all still enjoying it! xx**

"Blimey, Hermione!" he heard George yell, "I didn't realise you weren't wearing anything!"

Ron sprinted back up the stairs, face red with fury and ready to deck his brother for not knocking. When he couldn't see George he sprinted into the room, sputtering and redder than he'd ever been. And there they were, both fully clothed, doubled over with laughter.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" he yelled, glaring at them both.

"Oh, George," Hermione gasped, wiping her eyes, "You were right. That _was _fun!"

When Ron continued to look put out, Hermione walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek, saying, "George came to visit me yesterday afternoon to tell me we'd be hanging out today. We organised this then, so we could get started early."

"Get started early?" Ron asked, "On what?"

George stepped in to answer before Hermione could, "Today, I am teaching your girlfriend here the power of laughter."

OoOoO

Throughout the day, George taught Hermione all the tricks of the trade, often stopping to think how wonderful Fred would have found all of this. Maybe, he thought to himself, this would do him some good as well – Merlin knew he had been slowly getting better. He'd never get _over_ the loss of Fred, no matter how much he'd mended, and he didn't want to. Weeks spending time with family and with Angelina had brought it home to him that he would always have people that knew him and loved him infinitely, but never as much as Fred. Most of the time he could still feel him – always so close to hearing his laugh, watching the cheeky glint in his eye, seeing him pissing off Ron – and if he was honest with himself, he knew he would never even try and let that connection go. And even if he did, George had a pretty strong feeling that Fred would stick around anyway.

He was surprised at how enthusiastically Hermione took to the task of pranking people and helping him with some new merchandise for the shop. George was attempting to re-open Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as soon as possible, wanting to help the wizarding community recover as much as keep his mind off his own personal losses. Hermione had made some great suggestions as they played around with his new inventions, even offering to cast some of the more tricky charms on the objects herself. After having a good old laugh at one another, George decided it was a better time than ever to play some tricks on the other members of the household, and was shocked at how quickly she was able to pick up on the games.

She was actually the one who suggested the prank for Molly. George had long ago run out of ideas when it came to his mother – bewitching her Lockhart books to follow her around tapping her on the behind grew old fairly quickly. So when they noticed that Molly was baking a cake, supervising the goings-on from her position at the bench, an idea sprouted in Hermione's mind.

OoOoO

Hermione motioned to George and together they crept around to the side window of the kitchen, allowing her a better angle to cast her spell. George raised his eyebrows at her and waved his hands in a '_Work your magic' _expression, so Hermione turned to Molly and raised her wand. The carton of eggs sitting on the table was her target, and her timing couldn't have been better. After her spell was cast, the eggs obediently rose to add themselves to the cake mix. It was then that Hermione pushed George forward, so that he could enter the kitchen to ask Molly if there was anything to eat. With Molly distracted, Hermione was free to watch as the egg shells added themselves to the cake mixture and were stirred through, while the white and the yolks threw themselves through the window, ending up in the garden beds beneath the sill.

After Molly had shooed George from the kitchen, she turned back to the bowl, and nodded, as though pleased with how the cake mix was developing. Hermione and George only stayed long enough to see it safely in the oven and baking, and then retreated back to Harry and George's room.

"Hermione," he said seriously, "That was a bloody fantastic idea. I can't wait until dessert tonight."

"Couldn't have done it without you George," she responded, "All these years of me confiscating things off you have actually taught me something. And you know what, I finally started to realise just how much complex magic you and Fred put into all this stuff. It's really amazing."

She noticed that George was barely holding back tears, and moved to sit beside him.

"You know," she said, "You can cry if you like. I won't tell anyone."

"Cry? In front of a girl? Outrageous," he said in an attempt to make a humorous response.

Despite his words, he let a few tears fall and gave Hermione a hug. When they heard the shower running above them he let out a chuckle and winked at her.

"That'll be Perce. I can't wait until I see him. Payback for him switching mine and Ginny's undies the other day."

George paused, looking up, before continuing, "You know, Hermione, that's one good thing that's come out of all this mess – I lost a twin, which bloody sucks, but I found a brother. Perce coming back has kind of… softened the blow a little, I guess. It's nice to have the tosser around again – and he's even beginning to gain a sense of humour."

They sat in amicable silence for a while until the shower stopped running, and they could hear Percy padding across the floor to the mirror. The yell that resulted made them jump and Hermione started giggling. Switching the shampoo in his bottle to spell-resistant blue hair dye had been a combined effort, and she was greatly enjoying the day. She sat up, surprised, when Percy's booming laugh made its way down to them, and George laughed in response.

"See what I mean? It's not as fun as getting Ron worked up, but still, it's nice to have some joy in the house again."

"Thanks for today George," Hermione said, hugging him, "It means a lot. And taught me something really important – that if _you_ can stay positive through all this mess, I can too."

"That's what it's all about Hermione," George replied, "Smiling through the shit and showing the bastards that they can't bring you down."

OoOoO

Ron was in his room working on some designs when he heard footsteps on the stairs. From their softness and caution, he knew it was Hermione, and safely stowed the parchment he'd been scribbling on beneath his bed with the face painting kit, picking up a book he had on hand as cover. He felt it was relevant though, and had found himself reading it frequently over the past few days – it was one of Hermione's, focusing on panic, anxiety and trauma. Although some of the things in it sounded a little stupid to Ron, he was finding it interesting to read a Muggle book, and thought they might try something he'd found this morning. Instead of creasing down the top corner of the page like he would have done in one of his own books, he'd used a scrap piece of parchment instead, knowing how annoyed Hermione would be if she found him mistreating her most prized possessions.

He heard Hermione open the door behind him and was surprised when the feet padding across the floor began to speed towards him. Concerned something was wrong, Ron stood hurriedly and turned, only just catching her in time as she threw herself into his arms, laughing with pure joy. Smiling, he hugged her tightly and then set her on her feet, smoothing the fly-aways back off her forehead.

"Hey there," he said, smiling down at her grinning face, "Had a good day then?"

"I had the most amazing day Ron," she said, hugging him around the middle, "Thank you so much for doing all this for me – I really think it's helping. I feel so happy!"

"I can tell!" he said, chest swelling slightly at her praise, "I'm glad it's working 'Mione. I really am. Ginny tomorrow sound ok?"

She simply nodded in response, burrowing deeper into his arms and kissing his shirt. Ron held her close and couldn't help but grin – for the first time in a long time, Hermione seemed completely whole to him, laughing and happy to be alive. And his plan might actually be working. He tried not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help but squeeze her tighter and think that this was really going to be the end to all her suffering and her pain.

Breaking the silence, he said, "Hermione? I've had an idea."

"Another one?" Hermione asked, amused but not surprised, which pleased him.

"Yeah… I've been reading this book," he said, reaching around behind him with one arm to grab her book and show it to her, "And I think we ought to try one of the Muggle things in here."

"I've been thinking the same thing myself," she said, looking up at him, "But I was worried you'd think it was stupid. And since when were you interested in reading a Muggle book?"

"Since you've been having these problems and I saw it on the bedside table this morning. And 'Mione," he said earnestly, "I'd never think an idea you had about this problem was stupid. Anything's worth a try, right?"

Hermione stood on tip-toes to kiss him lightly on the lips, before responding, "You're right Ron. I'm sorry I thought that way."

Ron just kissed her again in response and asked, "I was thinking about this meditation thing. Was that the same one as you wanted to try?"

"Yeah, I thought we might give it a go. Do you think we'll have enough time before dinner?"

"Probably," Ron said, taking her hand and pulling her onto the floor opposite him, "Let's give it a shot."

Ron had read that meditation was all about making yourself comfortable and clearing your mind, so Hermione, naturally, crossed her legs and rested her back against her bed, closing her eyes, while Ron sat with his legs stretched along the ground before him, leaning against his desk to give himself more room. Ron closed his eyes, and tried to wipe his mind blank, which was proving very difficult. For a start, he was too excited about his plan working, and then all he could think about was holding Hermione in his arms moments ago. Cracking one eye open, he saw that Hermione had evened out her breathing and was keeping her eyes closed. Ron smirked and couldn't help but think that she was probably doing this perfectly. Shutting his eye, Ron tried again, and failed.

Deciding that it was futile, Ron let his eyes open once again and let them wander over his girlfriend. The slight flush in her cheeks from the warm summer air, her hair messily pulled back in a bun to keep her neck cool, with a few threads falling onto her shoulders, bare except for the thin straps of her singlet. Beautiful collar bones and long slender arms, her graceful figure and slightly knobbly knees.

She surprised him when, without opening her eyes, said, "You know, I can't meditate when you're looking at me like that."

"How did you know I was looking at you?" he asked.

"I can just tell."

He crawled over to her, kissing her on the lips before sitting in front of her and responding, "It's hard to concentrate when I try and clear my head and all I can think about is shagging you."

Before he'd had time to comprehend what he said and attempt to take it back, she'd opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Shit," he said, "I did _not_ mean for it to sound like that."

She giggled, instantly calming him, and she said, "You know, I've been kind of worried about that. With your mother's rule, how the hell _are _we supposed to shag?"

When he noticed how much she began to blush when she'd finished talking, he knew she hadn't really intended on saying that either.

"We'll either have to break the rule… or not do it in a bed."

Hermione sat in thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip, before she responded, "I don't particularly want to break your mother's rule… not after what she did for me."

"Sorted then," Ron said, suddenly nervous.

Just then there was knock at the door and Harry stuck his head in, visibly relieved to find them both fully clothed and not intertwined.

"Dinner's ready," he said.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said, standing, "We'll be right down."

When he'd left, Ron stopped Hermione at the door, looking her straight in the eye.

"Are you sure you're ready, 'Mione? I don't want to push you."

"I know you don't Ron," Hermione said, smiling, "And I'm sure. I love you. Also, don't eat dessert tonight."

With that, she trotted down the stairs to join the rest of the family, leaving Ron in the doorway of his room feeling joyous and seriously confused – why did she tell him not to eat dessert tonight? Didn't she know it was what he looked forward to all day?

**Thank you again for all the reviews, feedback [positive or constructively negative] is always welcome :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you thank you thank you for being so patient with me, gorgeous readers. I am so close to semester break, when I will be able to dedicate much more time to writing than to studying :( I hope you enjoy this chapter, I tried to make it longer to tide you over.**

When Ron finally made it downstairs, the family were all seated around the dinner table and he took the opportunity to look at them all – a little weary, a little worn, but getting better. They'd all lost some weight with the stress and sadness of the past year, really – but now they had all filled out again and the look of grief behind their eyes was slowly fading. Conversation, something the Weasley house had never lacked until the loss of Fred, was flowing freely tonight, and Ron could tell that Hermione had made a difference to George as well as the other way around. He was sitting at the far end of the table between a blue-haired Percy and Ginny, laughing and clapping his brother on the back.

"Come sit down Ron," Hermione whispered, tugging at his hand.

He took his seat next to her and leant over to kiss her on the cheek before accepting the salad bowl from his dad and hearing George wolf-whistle in his direction. He laughed when Hermione sent a rude gesture flying back across the table when Molly's head was turned.

When dinner was done and the dishes sent floating to the sink for a scrub, Molly stood to retrieve the cake from the bench top. Hermione winked across at George and Ron noticed his brother send a smirk back, and immediately knew why his girlfriend had warned him away from dessert.

"I can't believe," he whispered to her, "That you messed with my favourite meal of the bloody day. Couldn't it have been breakfast?"

"I'll make it up to you later," she said, and then, on noticing his pointed look, "Oh, not like that Ron!"

Chuckling again, he turned back to watch his mother dish out generous slices of cake, handing them around the table. Accepting his gratefully, he picked up his fork and watched with care as all but the three of them dug in. Harry's face turned from one of glee to one of horror almost immediately after his first bite, and Ron noticed with satisfaction that he gallantly tried to change it back as he glanced at Molly. Ginny didn't bother trying to disguise her distaste, spitting most of her cake back out and exclaiming loudly. At that point, George couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into raucous laughter as his mother's face turned beet red with embarrassment. The combined noises of disgust around the table set Hermione off shortly after.

"George Weasley!" Molly shrieked, "What on earth did you DO?"

George managed to keep a straight face as he said, "My dear mother, I'm outraged to think that the time has come when a lowly son can no longer sit at his mother's table without being accused of such terrible, heinous crimes."

Molly looked around in apparent confusion, before noticing Hermione hiding her giggles in Ron's shoulder.

"Hermione?" she said in bewilderment.

"I'm sorry Mrs Weasley," she said, eyes watering, "I couldn't help it. It was a perfect opportunity, and George said he ran out of ideas for you ages ago…"

Mr Weasley let out a chuckle and responded, "Of course it couldn't have been George, the only spell he knows is the one that bewitches Molly's books to fly around and tap her on the behind!"

"I would have thought of it eventually!" George said indignantly.

Mr Weasley just snorted and Percy said, "Oh come off it George – even I could have come up with something better than the book trick."

"Oh, shut up Mr Blue-hair!" George said with a smile.

"I think it looks rather dashing," responded Percy in an imitation of his former self.

"Alright children," Molly said, "Away with you while I clean up and then I'll make a pot of tea."

OoOoO

Hermione led Ron up to his room by the hand, feeling elated. For the first time in months she felt whole, and Bellatrix and her scar had been pushed into the furthest corner of her mind, almost not existing anymore. The thought of going to sleep tonight seemed almost comforting rather than daunting, and she knew Ron had plenty more up his sleeve. Could she possibly get any better than this? Would this problem really disappear altogether? Only time would tell, she thought.

She instructed Ron to sit on his bed and close his eyes and then began to rustle in her part of the chest of drawers for what she'd stashed in there earlier in the day. Locating it, she unwrapped it and advanced towards Ron, standing before him and cupping his face with her free hand to let him know she was there. He put his hands on her hips but kept his eyes closed obediently. Without talking, she touched the Chocolate Frog to his lips and watched as he opened his mouth and swept his tongue across it, opening his eyes in wondrous surprise. That surprise quickly faded and he bit off its head, chewing contentedly.

"You're the best 'Mione," he said with his mouth full of chocolate.

"I don't know whether to see it as endearing or concerning that you're so easily won over," Hermione said.

"Endearing. Definitely endearing."

OoOoO

The following morning, Hermione cracked her eyes open as the build-up of pressure on her leg became a little too much. Looking over to where Ron usually lay, he noticed that his bed was empty and wondered where he'd got to. Her question was answered by the shock of red hair obscuring the lower quarter of her field of vision, and the gentle snore rising from next to her bed. Leaning over slightly, she looked at him, peacefully asleep, resting his back against the side of her bed, his head on her leg. She smiled at the thought of seeing him like this every morning, and ran her fingers lightly through his hair to wake him. He opened his eyes slowly, a smile creeping across his face as he saw her.

"Mmm," was all he said.

"Good morning to you too," she replied with an amused smirk, "What on earth are you doing all the way over here?"

As though only realising his position for the first time, Ron glanced around and rubbed his eyes before responding, "I woke up about two, I guess, because you were getting a little upset in your sleep. So I came over here but I guess you stopped and I just feel asleep like this."

Silence followed his last remark before he continued slowly, "Hermione. Did you… not have a nightmare last night?"

She sat up excitedly and thought it over in her mind as he turned and rose on his knees beside the bed, looking up at her eagerly. She remembered being in Malfoy Manor again last night, but something had definitely been different. Bellatrix's scream was not so shrill, the knife not so sharp and the pain not so hard to bear. And then…

"I fought back!" she exclaimed with delight, remembering, "I fought back, Ron. We were there, but I heard you yelling my name and then I pushed her off and we fought them – it's working Ron! It's really working!"

He laughed with joy as she put her arms around his neck in a triumphant embrace and he stood to spin her around, kissing her and hugging her in his relief.

"You do realise it's still only five o'clock in the morning though, right?" Ron asked.

It was then Hermione glanced at the curtains and saw only a faint golden light shining through.

"Oh," she said in surprise and concern, "We shouldn't have been so loud."

"It's ok," Ron responded, "After the first night you slept in here I'd taken to casting _Muffliato_ before I went to sleep."

Hermione smiled before extracting herself from Ron's arms and heading back to bed, pulling him with her. She lay down closest to the wall and watched him settle beside her.

Turning he said, "I'm going to sound like the biggest fucking girl when I say this, but do you think we could just… lie here together?"

"Did you chuck in that swearword in order to sound a little less like a girl?" Hermione asked cheekily.

He tweaked her nose and kissed her lightly, before whispering, "Maybe."

For the next hour they simply lay there, dozing and enjoying the peaceful silence of the morning, not having to worry about anything in particular, really. When the clock on the bedside table ticked over the six, Ron roused Hermione again and got her to sit on the edge of the bed, about to put the second stage of his plan into action. She looked at him in curiosity as he turned to his bed and rummaged beneath it for the face painting kit and his sketches. When he turned back she was smiling and he set the box down beside her feet.

"You're going to paint my face?" she laughed, "I used to get a butterfly when I was four, if that gives you any hints."

"Shush you," he said, smirking, "I want to paint your scar."

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"I want you to see it as something beautiful instead of something ugly. Ginny digs Harry's scar, so I figure, you can dig your own."

Hermione looked at him for a moment before she said, "I love you so much. Really – thank you, Ron. You've done this all for me, and I don't even know why."

"Because I love you too," he said simply, "now hold out your arm."

She obliged, and watched with wary eyes when he began to paint around her scar with a shaking hand. The expression then turned to one of awe and surprised admiration as he worked, referring to his diagram to paint brilliant patterns of bright colour around the word, accentuating and allowing it to stand out. Ironic, she thought, considering she'd been trying so hard to cover it up until this whole thing had started. Even then, she'd been desperate not to look at it, to avoid others seeing it also. And now, it looked… almost beautiful, she thought.

"Ron…" she breathed, when he was done, glancing up at him.

"I'm sorry… I can take it off if you-"

"No!" she interrupted him, taking his wand away, "It's _beautiful_. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said shyly.

"You do realise though," she whispered, "This makes you even _more_ of a girl."

She quickly cast a charm over the area meaning that the paint would not fade or wear off until she removed the spell this evening.

OoOoO

Coming downstairs for breakfast, the two were greeted by Harry, Ginny and George, already helping themselves to freshly-prepared piles of scrambled eggs and bacon. Ron almost tripped over Hermione in his haste to get to the table, causing them all to laugh. When they were seated Hermione reached across Ginny to reach the salt, and she grabbed her wrist to peer at the inside of her arm.

"What have you done to your scar Hermione? It's gorgeous!"

Looking across at Ron and seeing the redness already appearing in his cheeks, she said, "Ron painted it for me this morning. Part of the plan."

"Oohhh Ronniekins!" George crooned, "It's so _lovely _that you're exploring your feminine side. Been picking any wildflowers lately, as well as engaging in some _painting_? Dappling in the fine arts now, are we?"

"Shut up," Ron grumbled at him, but the smile on his lips was unmistakeable.

When they'd finished breakfast Ron led Harry and George to the shed for their regular Quidditch match, leaving Ginny and Hermione alone in the kitchen.

"You're with me today, alright?" Ginny said.

"Couldn't think of anything more awful," Hermione responded, tugging a strand of Ginny's red hair teasingly.

"Hush you," she said, swatting Hermione's hand away and leading her out into the backyard.

They could see the glowing outlines of the three boys, already airborne, whooping and laughing with delight. Hermione followed Ginny in the opposite direction, climbing over the gate at the edge of the Weasley property and into a thick grove of trees at the bottom of the hill. Ginny stopped at a particular tree and leant against it. Hermione noticed the amount of damage it had sustained, and looked at her friend in curiosity.

"This," Ginny said, patting the trunk, "Is my angry tree. Last year, when you guys left and George's ear got cut off and everything was going crazy, I would come down here and take out all my frustration on this tree. This is how I deal with everything. When I get upset or angry or someone's hurt me, this is where I come."

Hermione thought it over, and it seemed logical. Ginny had always been one to vent her feelings freely, but lately, she had been under pressure to comfort and support her family, and evidently needed another outlet. Hermione had never really shown her anger – her rows with Ron were only a tiny portion of the rage she was capable of feeling – and she thought Ginny's plan was a good one. Exploring her sorrow with Harry, laughter with George, and now anger with Ginny. All part of the process.

"Great," she said, "Which one's mine?"

Ginny smiled before looking around and saying, "Any one you want. Although, since we're about to get some target practice, I'd pick one that's not too close to mine."

Hermione laughed and walked a few metres to the left of Ginny's tree, choosing one with a thick trunk that didn't have any apparent birds or other animals nesting in it. She knew Ginny would be shaking her head behind her back as she searched the branches within her reach, but it was important to her. Deciding that yes, this option seemed safe, she turned back to her friend.

"So," she said, "We just… go for it?"

"Pretty much," Ginny laughed, "I just need to get into the right frame of mind. Dig up something that's been annoying or hurting me lately."

"Doesn't sound too difficult," Hermione responded, turning back to her tree and imagining Bellatrix Lestrange's face in the contorted bark.

She fired off a few curses aloud, noticing with satisfaction that the last ones already began to make an imprint, before following Ginny's lead and switching to non-verbal hexes. After a while, they both dropped to the ground, hair messy and covered in sweat. Looking around, Hermione noticed with satisfaction that the two trees the girls had been practising on were smoking slightly, and she washed them both down with her wand, ensuring they didn't start a small fire. Ginny laughed and launched herself in front of Hermione's wand, drenching herself with cool water. The water fight continued to the point where the girls had retreated up the hill in attempts to dodge each other's wands, spreading out over the lawn.

From behind her, Hermione heard the three boys laughing and suddenly felt another jet of water from her back and George's joyful yell of delight. They spent the rest of the afternoon engaged in their water fight, Hermione's scar staying clear and unblemished beneath her spell. Every so often she would pause and watch her family, and glance down at her scar and smile. She looked at Ron, with his hair plastered to his head and shirt clinging to every muscle in his broad chest, and her heart swelled at the safety and excitement she felt with him, and how the feelings she'd felt long before the war started were zinging in her chest again.

**That's all for now! Feedback is loved and welcomed and I'm going to try and reply personally to my reviews from now on – it's the least I can do. Also, if you'd like me to read any of your stories, just send me the title and I'd be most happy to take a look and provide you with a review as well :) xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here we go – thank you for all your lovely reviews, which I am now replying to personally as a token of my appreciation. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I was going to write it with Bill and Fleur but I was in an Arthur kind of mood. Let me know what you think! xx**

The water fight was still raging on when Hermione heard Ron creep up behind her and bend so that his lips touched her ear. She shivered at the contact but didn't take her eyes of George, Harry and Ginny, racing down the hill to use the trees as cover.

"Come to the lake with me," Ron whispered, putting his large hand in her smaller one.

"Okay," she whispered back, not knowing if he had heard her.

By the time they reached the pebbly shore of the lake their lips had met and parted more times than Hermione could count, and she was dizzy and lost in him. Ron stopped her at the edge of the water and slid both hands down her sides to her bum, pressing her into him. She ran her fingers through his still-wet hair and stood on her toes, straining to get even closer to him. Pulling back, he took off his shirt and then looked down at her, smirking.

"You're as fucking turned on as I am," he whispered, his eyes glinting.

Looking down, she noted with a slight blush that even through her bra and wet shirt, her nipples were noticeably standing to attention. She had never been this overwhelmed by him before, the need and want she felt for him settling just below her navel, making her knees shake uncontrollably.

Looking back up at Ron, she asked, "Are we…?"

"No," he said firmly, "Not like this. But it doesn't mean we can't see each other naked."

Hermione laughed at Ron's smirk, bringing her hand to his cheek and kissing him again, exploring his mouth with her tongue and feeling his hands leave their position behind her and slowly begin to move the hem of her T-shirt up her body, catching on her wet skin as he went. When he stopped kissing her to pull the material over her head she was able to catch her breath, but his lips found hers again almost immediately.

"What if someone comes," she murmured into his lips as she felt his hands wander to the button of her shorts.

"Well, if we keep this up," he murmured back, "That person might be me."

"You're incorrigible," she giggled, snaking one hand between their bodies until she could undo the button on his jeans.

OoOoO

When they'd both stepped out of their pants, Ron resumed kissing Hermione. The passion they were feeling in this moment was so intense and so real that he hardly dared talk to break the feeling. It was the first time in a long time that he and Hermione had been fooling around and she hadn't been crying a few minutes beforehand. That was probably why this was so different – the air had charge, and he couldn't keep his hands still, running up and down her sides, squeezing her breasts gently, running through her hair. Leading her into the blissfully warm water, Ron had soon navigated them into the deepest part of the lake, where he could stand safely but she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist to keep her head above water.

"Fuck," he whispered as her centre brushed against his length.

Hermione moved her lips to his earlobe and he quickly removed her bra to catch a nipple in his mouth. They both groaned simultaneously and Ron released his feeble hold on her bra, not caring as it sank to somewhere near his feet. Ron raised his head as his now-free hand travelled beneath her knickers, clinging closely to her in the warm water. Checking that they were still alone, he refocused on Hermione, who had pressed her forehead against his and was whispering to him as his fingers moved in and out of her.

"A bit lower," she said, nodding fervently when he hit the right spot.

After she had relaxed in his arms, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. He felt his heart swell at the sight; the moment they had just shared had been completely untainted by the sadness and anger they'd both been feeling over the past few months. In this second, Ron thought to himself, they were just two people totally in love with each other, and right now she was looking at him like he was the only person in the world she'd ever feel that way about. And he knew he must be looking at her that same way. His thoughts wandered slightly again when she began to return the favour he had just given her, and after it was over they simply held one another, Hermione resting her head on Ron's shoulder.

"I love you," Ron said, "And I always will."

"I will too," Hermione responded, planting a sweet kiss on his bare shoulder, "Always."

OoOoO

When Ron shook Hermione awake in the middle of the night, Hermione's heart sank in the chest at the thought of her having woken him in the middle of another nightmare. She didn't remember having one, but here he was. Her confusion grew when she saw the groggy yet joyous look on his face, and she sat up slowly, wiping sleep out of her eyes.

"If you've woken me up to congratulate me on _not_ having a nightmare, Ron," she threatened, "You're a dead man."

Ron laughed softly and leant to kiss her before responding, "Don't be silly. Come look out the window – I think you'll want to see this."

He helped Hermione stand and lead her to the window, positioning himself behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Hermione gasped and leaned forward further to watch as fireworks seemed to crack the sky into a million pieces, two small dark figures scurrying across the ground below, setting more off into the night.

"George?" Hermione asked, hope in her voice.

"And Harry," Ron confirmed, smiling.

They had evidently cast a silencing charm in order not to wake anyone in the house, but Hermione was glad that Ron had happened to wake up when the light show started. She couldn't hear them, but Hermione was sure George was laughing as he hugged Harry, the outlines of the two clear against the colourful lights. George has hidden away the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes fireworks shortly after Fred's death, and she was so glad that Harry had helped the twin enough to get him to this point. She would have run down the stairs and out into the yard to embrace him herself, but she knew that this was a very private moment, and it didn't feel right to disturb them. Ron evidently thought the same, as he made no move to leave his place behind her at the window and join his brother and best friend. They simply enjoyed the view, and when it was over, went back to bed, and fell asleep thinking that maybe the time had come where everyone was healing.

OoOoO

The next morning Ron came downstairs to find everyone already digging into breakfast. Hermione, still at the table in her pyjamas, had saved him a seat, which he took with a smile in her direction. George, across the table, was eating from a large pile of food, which Ron could only assume was sitting on a plate, lost in the mass of eggs, bacon, toast and sausages. He shared a knowing smile with Hermione, knowing George hasn't eaten this much since Fred's passing.

"Hermione's going to be visiting Ottery St. Catchpole with me today, Ron," his father said from the head of the table.

"That's great Dad," he replied, "What for?"

"We're going to my monthly Muggle Appreciation Society meeting," Arthur responded with pride, "For the past couple of months we haven't been able to find time to do it, because of everything that's been going on. Today I'm taking fishing rod to show the chaps."

"I'm going with him as some kind of special guest," Hermione said with a smile, "I think I'll spend most of my time explaining what everything they bring actually does."

After breakfast was over Ron stood in the doorway with Harry and watched as Hermione and Arthur wandered together beyond the wards before Apparating the short distance to the village. Ron had thought that Arthur, despite his love of Muggles and Hermione especially, would struggle to come up with something to do while they spent the day together. Ron realised that this was the first time Hermione had stepped out of the Burrow's wards since the war ended, and his heart leapt in his chest with sudden anticipation and worry for her.

"Calm down mate," Harry said, reading his thoughts and clapping him on the shoulder, "She'll be fine. They're not that far away, and your dad's with her."

"Too right mate," Ron responded, turning to him, "Fancy a game of Wizard's Chess?"

"As long as you let me win at least once," Harry laughed, leading the way.

It had been too long since they had spent some time together alone. Neither one wanted to admit it aloud, but they had missed each other, and the morning hurried away from them as Ron beat Harry at chess all but the once, and they laughed and reminisced on times spent in much the same way.

OoOoO

As Hermione entered the small and dimly lit room following Arthur, she smiled at the sight. Almost every available surface held a teetering pile of Muggle junk, strongly reminding her of the magically enlarged garage at the Burrow. The gasps and shocked squeaks of the six wizards and witches around her brought her out of her reverie, and she looked around, alarmed, in search of danger. She was more than surprised when she realised all those present had their eyes on her, except Arthur, who was looking smug.

"I thought you lot might enjoy a little celebrity visit," he chortled, putting a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders and drawing her further into the room.

One of the wizards almost fell in his haste to offer her his seat, which she took with a shy thank you.

"Hermione Granger," one of the witches gasped, "What an honour!"

"Thank you…" Hermione responded hesitantly, "But how is it exactly that I'm so well known?"

"Why, you assisted the great Harry Potter in defeating Lord Voldemort," piped up an older wizard in the back, "You and Arthur's son Ron are more famous than you think, Miss Granger. Your intelligence and bravery can hardly be matched!"

Hermione blushed deeply, grateful for the bad lighting in the room. Arthur looked at her with a warm smile, and suddenly she realised just why he had brought her here. To hear from other, not those closest to her, just how much she was valued, just the way she was. She felt a surge of courage, but mostly gratitude.

"You're all too kind," she said, still humble, "Without Harry and Ron… I would have been nothing."

A tall, grand witch sitting up the back spoke up in response, "Hermione dear, if I may be so bold? We do not question Harry and Ron's bravery and support for you throughout the years, but we only seek to stress your importance in the mission. Arthur, without providing much detail, has alluded that you have faced some difficult times in the past year. All of us here want to reassure you that you are a beautiful, talented young woman whom all of us admire beyond anything you care to imagine."

At these kind words, Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes and run slowly down her cheeks. She honestly didn't know whether they were tears of happiness or sorrow, or a mixture. But she did know that she had never believed her contribution to be so highly valued. She had never minded working away in the background, knowing Harry did not ask for all the attention, and mostly resented it. But there was a part of her – and a part of Ron, she knew – that wanted a little of that spotlight, that recognition, for something. And here she was, getting it. It felt wonderful.

For the remainder of the meeting, each witch and wizard recounted their struggles throughout the time when Voldemort gained full power, and how Hermione and her fearlessness had helped them in some way to face their own personal challenges. After they had all finished, Hermione asked them to continue with the meeting, and proffered her assistance in explaining the purpose and function of each item they cared to present. The meeting concluded with a round of handshakes and hugs. As Arthur said goodbye to one of the wizards in the corner, a pair approached Hermione one more time.

"Hermione, dear, we have a favour to ask," said the witch, speaking on behalf of them both.

"Anything," Hermione said.

"We were wondering if you would be so kind as to pass these letters on to Ronald," the witch continued, pressing a small, thick stack of letters into Hermione's hands, "We were never able to express our gratitude to him for all that he had done."

Hermione smiled broadly, promising to do as they had asked. Finally, it seemed to her, Ron could get his own recognition also. Knowing he always compared himself to his brothers and Harry made Hermione hope beyond hope that these letters conveyed how truly loved and revered he was for his own talents and qualities. She couldn't wait to give them to him.

OoOoO

When they arrived back at the Burrow, Hermione reached up to give Arthur a warm hug.

"Thank you Mr Weasley," she said, "You have no idea what that meant to me."

"Hermione, I think it's about time you started calling me Arthur," he said with a glimmer in his eye, "And you are most welcome. Please feel free to come to any meeting in the future, if it takes your fancy. The way you described the function of the cellular phone device was simply wonderful!"

"I'll make sure I do," she said, watching him walk into the house to give Molly a peck on the lips.

Turning, she saw three figures in the distance and started off towards them, realising too soon that one, Ron, was asleep, and the other two were definitely not. Moving to stand behind the tree Ron was propped up against, she cast a silencing charm in Harry and Ginny's direction before turning away, slightly embarrassed. Shaking her head, she gently put the stack of letters down and lowered herself into Ron's lap, kissing him on the cheek, drawing closer to his lips. By the time she'd reached them he was wide awake, his hands were on her hips and his lips were ready and waiting for her.

When they separated he blinked up at her and said, "That was some hello."

Settling back slightly so that she could see him, she ran her fingers through his fringe and replied, "Why thank you. I just got back with your dad actually."

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Really well. It was so surreal – they were almost fawning over me. I felt like… well, I felt like Harry."

"I wonder why," Ron said sarcastically, but Hermione still noticed that tinge of jealousy behind his eyes.

"And I've got something for you," she said, getting excited.

"Another chocolate frog?" he asked hopefully.

Slapping him playfully on the arm, Hermione shook her head and reached beside her, passing him the stack of letters. She saw the confused look on his face and just nodded toward them when he raised his eyes to hers. Opening the first letter, Ron continued to look befuddled until around the second paragraph, Hermione supposed. It was then that his look turned to one of shock and pride and the blush began to work its way into his cheeks and the tips of his ears, the way she so loved.

"A witch and a wizard came up to me at the end of the meeting and just asked me to give them to you," Hermione explained, "They wanted you to know how much they all admire you."

"Admire me?" he echoed, turning the parchment over as though expecting to see 'Just Kidding!' written on the back.

"Yes, Ron, you," Hermione said tenderly, "You have to start realising that people really look up to you. They want to be like you. Want to meet you, to shake your hand, to just be with you."

The blush in Ron's cheeks grew deeper as he opened the second letter and began to read.

"This guy says that he wished he has friends as loyal and as brave as me," he said quietly, as though trying to convince himself, "That I'm courageous."

"You are, Ron," Hermione said in earnest, "Talking to these people today confirmed to me just how many people admire you. You are so loved, just for being who you are. No one ever wants you to change and be more like your brothers, or who you think you should be. They love you for you. Just like I do."

"I love you too," he said, hugging her.

Hermione felt his tears seep into the fabric of her T-shirt and simply held him.


	9. Chapter 9

**There's going to be a question for you readers at the end which I'd love some advice on, so please read the A/N at the end :) Also, sorry this is a bit shorter – to be honest I had a lot of trouble writing Percy. Thank you again for all your lovely reviews! I apologise for the late replies to the recent reviews, I'll try and be more prompt in the future! xx**

Hermione padded down the stairs to breakfast early that morning, kissing Ron on the cheek and leaving him dozing. When she arrived in the Burrow's kitchen Harry smiled sleepily at her and George waved his fork in her direction before returning to his voluminous breakfast. Arthur was reading the paper at the head of the table and Hermione took a seat next to Molly, helping herself to eggs and toast.

Percy, upon entering, saw her and said, "I've got a great day prepared for us Hermione."

"Am I dying your hair back to its original colour?" she responded.

Percy stuck out his tongue at her and patted his still-blue hair fondly, "It's actually growing on me."

Molly chose to interrupt at that moment, saying, "Well, it had better turn back its rightful shade soon, Percy Weasley, or I'll shave off the lot."

"I'll help you tonight Perce," George said, "It's a pretty easy charm. But I'm meeting Lee at the shop today so it'll have to wait till then."

"After I talk to Hermione I'm going out with Penelope anyway," Percy responded, "So tonight sounds good."

"You're going to let your girlfriend see you like that?" Harry asked, laughing.

Everyone at the table chuckled before Hermione asked, "So what are we really doing today?"

Percy sat up a little straighter in his chair, the excitement clear in his eyes as he said, "Today, I am going to give you a lesson on the most successful and important Muggleborns in English wizarding history."

"Sounds like a regular old snore-fest to me," George said, "You two should have a great time."

OoOoO

Once they'd eaten their fill, Percy took Hermione outside to sit in a patch of sun, bringing with him a number of large volumes from his collection that could rival only Hermione's. The books he brought with him were leather bound and very worn, having evidently been used for many years. Percy explained to Hermione that it had been difficult to find references of famous Muggleborns from early and even recent wizarding history, as there was still preference for famous purebloods and their heroic stories. He had, however, been able to track down an older bookstore hidden away in a side street off Diagon Alley which was owned by a half-blood historian, a man who believed the history of Muggleborns equally important. Hermione felt flattered that Percy had gone to so much trouble, and told him as much, but he waved her comments away.

Sitting in the warmth of the garden for a few hours, Percy introduced each Muggleborn witch and wizard to her in turn, passing over a relevant book from time to time and allowing Hermione to read relevant passages from their pages. She learned of witches that had developed complex healing potions still used today, and wizards who had, like herself, played an important role in wizarding battles in decades past. Percy mused that someday Hermione would undoubtedly be featured in similar books, making her blush with pride and embarrassment.

When Molly called them in for lunch, Percy helped Hermione to her feet and he moved his hands to her shoulders.

"You're a brilliant witch, Hermione," he said, "And I hope this was some sort of comfort to you. One bookworm to another."

Hermione leaned up to hug Percy, responding, "It was wonderful, Percy. Thank you. It was so nice to read all their stories – I appreciate the effort you went to to find them."

"Anytime," Percy smiled.

OoOoO

The house was empty for the afternoon. After lunch Percy and George had gone to meet Penelope and Angelina, Harry and Ginny had departed for a swim in the lake, and Arthur had packed an afternoon tea for him and Molly to share in the fields beyond the house. Hermione took a deep breath - she loved Ron and he loved her just as much. And Hermione knew she wanted this to happen, and soon. Her desire for him was only growing with time and she needed an outlet. She knew before now would have been somewhat inappropriate, what with her crying or attempting to blow her own arm off on kind of dampening the mood somewhat. But, laying out the number of rugs and blankets she had collected onto the floor, she thought this was the right time. She was so completely and utterly nervous about it though she didn't know what exactly would happen – whether she would chicken out and decide against it for the time being, or if in the moment she'd be so caught up in it all it would be wonderful and perfect and everything that she'd ever dreamed.

Hearing his heavy footfalls on the stairs, her heart began to gallop in her chest and she turned away from the door, suddenly nervous about meeting his gaze. The door opened behind her and when he didn't progress into the room she had to turn and look at him. There he was, paused as though about to take another step, staring at the rugs beneath her bare feet. His gaze flashed suddenly up to her eyes and she saw the excitement but trepidation there.

"Ron…"

He was on her in an instant, kissing her frantically and causing her to grab hold of him in case she toppled over. Soon they were lying on the rugs and he was hovering over her and she could feel all of him, his hard planes and soft caresses surrounding her in a world that was entirely Ron. When he leaned down to suck deliciously on her neck she said his name in a way that made him look up at her, resting his arms on either side of her head.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

"You just…" Hermione said, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "You just haven't said anything. Should we be… talking or something?"

"Generally when you're kissing, talking isn't advised," he joked in response.

"I know… but, I mean, don't you want to talk about this? What's going to happen? You do know what's going to happen… don't you?"

"Of course I know what's going to happen 'Mione," Ron laughed, "I'm not completely thick. I just don't know what exactly you want to talk about. There's not that much to say – I love you."

"I love you too," Hermione whispered.

Ron leant in to kiss her again gently before moving his way down her neck until he made contact with the first button on her shirt, slipping it through the hole and kissing the bare skin the action exposed. Hermione sucked in a breath, feeling everything that kiss was trying to communicate.

"What if I do it wrong?" she whispered.

Ron groaned, leaning her forehead against Hermione's chest, and said, "You're a sexy, beautiful woman Hermione and you learn bloody fast. Plus, since neither of us have done this before, I hardly think we're going to know, or care."

Hermione took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself and subtly wipe her clammy palms on her shorts without Ron noticing. She had absolutely no idea why she was this nervous – she wanted this, she really did, and it was _Ron._ The one she'd been secretly in love with since she was about twelve, who now loved her back and put her happiness above his own. Who she felt more comfortable around than anyone, and who was able to make her laugh and feel weak at the knees almost simultaneously. Thinking about it, she realised she knew exactly why she felt this way – because of all those things. She didn't want to screw this up – if you'd pardon the expression – and ruin her relationship with Ron. Hermione knew it was a stupid, irrational fear, but she just couldn't shake it. By the time all these thoughts had passed through her mind, Ron had unbuttoned her shirt completely and was kissing her left breast through her lacy bra.

"No, Ron," she said shakily, "I don't think I can do this."

Immediately Ron rolled away and sat up, not looking at her.

"Please don't be annoyed with me," she whispered, scooting closer and resting her forehead against his back, blushing with shame.

"I'm not annoyed with you," he responded softly, "I'm confused, Hermione. Why did you do this if you weren't sure? I know you don't think I'm pushing you, but doing this has made me feel like I am."

"I'm so sorry Ron. I thought I was sure – I really did."

"It's okay. I'm gonna go for a walk, alright? I'll be back in a while."

And with that, he got up quietly and left the room, closing the door silently behind him. He left Hermione sitting on the rug, shocked at his reaction – she had never seen him respond like that to anything before. Ron was never quiet, always choosing the loud, passionate response, whether it was anger or happiness. She knew from the way he'd left that she'd really hurt him. She let the tears escape as she buried her head in her arms.

OoOoO

Ron had lied to Hermione. He was right when he said he was confused, but he was also angry as hell. He was furious at Hermione – why did she always have to talk about things, things which should be purely about emotion and feeling? How much was there even to discuss on the topic of them having sex? Except maybe the question of whether they both knew the contraception charm, which he did and he knew she would. And he hated himself for being annoyed with her, since he didn't have the right to be. Hermione had always been sensitive about her body and how well she mastered new… skills, he supposed, and probably always would be. But couldn't she see that she'd never be able to be perfect at doing it with him with the first time? That was part of the fun, for Merlin's sake!

Maybe he should have handled it better, he thought to himself grudgingly, as he stepped out into the warm summery air of the yard. Sitting on the top step, his heart ached a little at the thought of Hermione crying alone in his room, undoubtedly feeling just as shitty as he did. But he knew that if he'd stayed with her it would have escalated into another row, which was exactly what Ron wanted to avoid – there'd been too much sadness and anger going around lately. With that in mind, Ron stood up, ran a hand through his hair and stood up, returning hurriedly to his room.

Pausing outside the door, he knocked before calling softly, "Mione, can I come in?"

Hearing a muffled "Yes" in response, he opened the door a crack and peered around the frame. Hermione was lying on his bed wearing his Chudley Cannons T-shirt, rolled into a tiny ball. The way her hair made a halo around her and obscured her face took his breath away, and he walked to kneel beside her, lifting it away slightly so he could catch her eye.

"I'm sor –," he began.

"Don't even," she whispered in response, reaching out to touch his face delicately, "It's my fault. You were right, I should never have made you feel like you were taking advantage of me. I never want you to think that, because… I don't think I've ever loved you more, Ron. You're the most wonderful, kind-hearted man…"

At that point Ron supposed she didn't know what else to say, because she simply stopped talking and sat up.

**Okay, so this is where I need you to tell me what you think: should they do the deed, so to speak, now… or should I leave it for a couple of chapters? I just don't know if you get the impression that Hermione now realises why she wasn't ready and has changed her mind, or if she needs to think it over for a little while. Please let me know! xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**First of all, woke to such terrible news this morning – my thoughts and well wishes are with everyone that has been affected by the shooting in Denver, and in general, for anyone facing personal struggles at this time.**

**As for this story - majority rules. I'm so so so so sorry if I've offended anyone by not writing this chapter the way they wanted/requested. I hope you enjoy it anyway and that you keep reading :) I value all of your feedback so much and the fact that people actually read my stuff is incredible! Particular mention goes to **_smkffnut_** for their excellent ideas which I have incorporated in this chapter. **

**I love you all xx**

"You know what the problem is?" Ron asked from his place beside the bed.

"I think too much," Hermione answered.

"Exactly. You need to just… stop worrying so much. Stop worrying about making a mistake or messing things up. Just listen to what you really want and just… go for it."

"It sound so simple when you put it like that," Hermione said, "But I just can't. Whenever I try to stop thinking, all these new thoughts just rush into my head and make it even harder."

"If I remember correctly there are a couple of times you've thrown caution to the wind," Ron said slyly, planting two heated kisses just below her ear, "Maybe we could try that again."

"I have no idea… what you're talking about," she breathed as one hand instinctively wove into his messy hair and the other fisted on his chest.

"Sure you don't," came Ron's muffled reply as he kissed each hardened nipple through the orange fabric of the shirt she wore.

Ron felt Hermione begin to rub her thighs together beneath the T-shirt, and he smiled. Moving his lips back to her neck, he rose only as far as he needed to before turning them, so that he was sitting on the bed and she balanced on his knees. Digging his hands into her hips he tugged her forward until she was completely in his lap, her shirt riding up around her stomach and the friction between them so delicious Ron was almost losing it. As his mouth closed over hers and their tongues clashed, Ron moved one hand swiftly under the fabric of her shirt, capturing her nipple between his finger and thumb.

Hermione broke away with a moan before she whispered, "We should stop. I need to think."

Ron kissed her shoulder and responded in a low voice, "What the fuck do you need to think about?"

"Anything," she moaned, "My brain feels fuzzy…"

Ron smirked and moved his lips to her ear and his fingers to her entrance simultaneously.

"What," he said, rubbing her in exactly the way he knew drove her crazy, "Is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Oh… they... um…" she said, moving her hips into his fingers while her brow creased in concentration.

Merlin, he loved seeing her confused.

"Spread your legs," he said, kissing her collarbone, knowing exactly what she wanted.

All he got was a moan in response.

"I said, spread your legs," Ron repeated, biting down gently on her skin.

She did as she'd been instructed and groaned again as Ron entered her, not hesitating to use two fingers to fill her.

"Fuck, Ron, faster" she said, making him moan.

His fingers began to speed up and she fell silent in her concentration, kissing him with such passion and fervour that Ron could barely breathe.

_Bang._ The sound of the back door slamming and two individuals making their way to the bathroom, keeping their voices low. Ron withdrew from Hermione and swore under his breath as Hermione's eyes opened and she shot to her feet, almost falling because her knees were shaking so badly. Ron's hands instinctively went to her hips to steady her, and he stood so that she could lean into him.

"Can you stand alone?" Ron whispered, still hard and dying for Hermione.

"Yeah," she responded shakily, looking just as put-out.

Letting her go, Ron walked to his door and opened it a crack, not seeing anyone. He tried not to stomp his way down the flight of stairs, listening at the door of the bathroom only to hear Harry and Ginny, as he expected. Holding back the frustrated yell that was threatening to spill out, he ran back upstairs to find Hermione sitting on his bed, rubbing her thighs and attempting to slow her breathing.

"Harry and Ginny," Ron said through gritted teeth, sitting beside her.

"Couldn't they have stayed out for another hour?" Hermione whined, "We were having such a good time! I wasn't even starting to get nervous! Why do we always have to get _fucking _interrupted?"

"Hermione, did you just swear?" Ron couldn't help but smile knowing his girlfriend was as frustrated as he was about not being able to spend time together without being disturbed.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, "I was so bloody close and then they barge in the house as if they're the only ones here? I've got half a mind to walk down there and hex them halfway to Hogwarts!"

"Sexually frustrated Hermione has got to be the scariest Hermione I've ever seen," Ron laughed, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek and seeing the hint of a smile twitch on her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I think we should find somewhere else to do this next time."

"Agreed," Ron said before continuing, "Now let's go outside and freeze the water pipes. I think Harry and Gin are in the shower."

OoOoO

The following morning, Ron painted Hermione's scar again, with a different pattern. She was just as impressed and once again cast a protective charm over the area, noticing how the redness had begun to leave, and how sometimes she had even forgotten it was there altogether. Hermione would be spending the day with Molly, and she was greatly looking forward to learning something from one of the most inspirational women she had ever known. Today, judging from the rain pattering against the glass, would be an inside day for everyone.

Molly was, as Hermione expected, in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. Hermione waved her wand and began to help clear away the dishes and wash the frying pan, with Molly smiling in thanks. After the job as complete, Hermione put her wand down on the kitchen table and turned to the redhead.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Molly?" she asked.

"No dear, it's all done now. Thanks for your help – you ready to kick off our day together?"

"Of course," Hermione answered eagerly.

"Today I'm going to teach you how to cook – whenever I'm upset, I cook the Muggle way, which is what I'm going to show you. I assume that because you spent so much of your teenage years at Hogwarts that you never really had a chance to learn?"

Hermione paused, thinking with slight sadness of her mother and father before responding, "My parents never really cooked well anyway. So I'd be glad to learn from an expert."

Molly smiled and they set to work – making a fish pie for lunch since the weather had turned somewhat gloomy. Hermione was instructed and followed the orders she was given to the letter, not wanting to make a single mistake, and also thinking of the cake incident and how she didn't particularly want a repeat performance – purposeful sabotage was a different matter. Molly's kind words of advice and her praise made Hermione blush, thinking how much she was enjoying her company. Learning a new skill was filling Hermione with joy, and putting her hands and her mind to good use in the kitchen was so enjoyable that she decided to help Molly out with the cooking more often. When the pie was in the oven they wiped their hands on their aprons and sat down at the kitchen table for a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Molly chose to break the comfortable silence by saying, "I don't mean to intrude dear, but how are things going with you and Ron?"

Hermione blushed and looked down into her half-empty teacup, thinking of what she and Ron had been up to yesterday afternoon in the deserted house. She was glad they'd been able to talk through the conflict they'd had – Ron had been so understanding – but Harry and Ginny's untimely interrupted still made her annoyed.

"It's wonderful," Hermione answered truthfully, "He's helped me so much with everything…"

"He loves you very much," responded Molly, patting her hand.

"I love him too. Thank you so much for letting me stay in his room with him these past few weeks."

"Of course dear," she said, "I trust you both. I think you've been very… respectful of my position."

"Ron made a promise," Hermione said, thinking of how close they'd come to breaking it on a number of occasions.

"He did – but I've been thinking. It was… inappropriate of me to make that decision for you two. You _are_ both of age, and I could think of no one more trustworthy than yourself, Hermione. So I've decided to revoke my rule."

"Are you sure Molly? We wouldn't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable," Hermione said, sincere but hopeful.

"Positive. I just ask you that you two are prepared for when you two want to take things… further, if you follow?"

Hermione blushed deeply but smiled at Molly, glad that now, she and Ron would be able to continue things in their relationship without feeling at all guilty about what Ron's mother would think. This also meant that they could sleep beside each other at night, something that Hermione had been dreaming of doing for a number of years. She got up and moved around the table so that she could hug the older woman, amazed at how natural the relationship felt. Almost as though Molly was her mother-in-law already. _Whoa_, Hermione thought to herself, _calm down. Don't get ahead of yourself here._

OoOoO

The fish pie was a raving success and as the dishes set to washing themselves Ron pulled Hermione aside, noticing that Molly immediately made herself busy across the room.

"How's it going?" Ron asked, intertwining their fingers tenderly.

"Great – the fish pie was pretty good, and your mum and I also had a chat," Hermione said, unable to keep the wide grin off her face.

"Oh really?" Ron smirked, "Discussing my handsome looks and charm again, were you? You'd think people would get tired of it, really."

Hermione smacked him in the stomach with their conjoined hands, laughing, "You wish mister. She told me that she's removing her rule."

Ron's eyes widened and the tips of his ears turned bright red as he glanced over at this mother, scrubbing the pie dish by hand at this stage. Looking back at Hermione, he said, "Wicked."

"Hermione dear," Molly said from her place at the sink, "I won't need to start dinner for another few hours. Why don't you go along with the others for a while and then come back later?"

Ron and Hermione chorused their thanks and were about to enter the longue room when they found George at the door, two metal pots in hand. Glancing around the frame, Hermione saw Harry and Ginny getting hot and heavy on the couch. Looking over her shoulder at Ron, she saw his satisfied smirk and nod to George, knowing he felt the same way as she did – if Harry and Ginny interrupted them, who were they to stop George from doing the same? Hermione watched as he snuck through the door, around the couch and behind the couple, completely unaware that they were being watched. Raising the two pans, he looked over at Ron and Hermione, winking slyly before bringing them together with such force that it made her ears ring. Harry and Ginny sprung apart, the former staying seated on the couch, red in the face and completely dumbfounded, while his girlfriend acted radically differently.

"You absolute _git_, George!" she yelled, fists balled at her sides, "How dare you! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"You almost burned my retinas out," George joked in response, "So I guess that makes us even?"

Ginny simply yelled in frustration and stormed out, leaving Harry on the couch alone looking sheepish and George, Hermione and Ron almost crying with laughter. When Hermione had collected herself she turned to Ron, whispering that she was going to go check on Ginny. Ron nodded and walked over to Harry, slugging him hard on the arm and evidently making some crass comment, judging from George's guffaw and Harry's embarrassment. Hermione made her way upstairs and into Ginny's room, where the door stood wide open. She crossed to sit beside Ginny on her bed, while the redhead dried her eyes.

"It's really not that bad Gin," Hermione said softly, "Just a bit of fun."

"Yeah, I know, it's just… I feel like we're always intruded on, you know?"

Hermione gritted her teeth before responding, "I know the feeling – you know when you guys came home yesterday afternoon and had a shower?"

"Yeah?" Ginny responded, "Didn't last long though – the water went all cold."

"Well, it did that because Ron and I froze the pipes. We were a bit… annoyed with you two because we were… well, we were in the middle of something when you came home."

Ginny turned to Hermione, blushing, and said, "Oh, Hermione! I'm so sorry – we didn't even think. I guess we're not the only ones getting interrupted then. This household seriously sucks sometimes, huh?"

Hermione laughed weakly and nodded, "Yeah, it kinda does."

"So how's things with my brother? You two done the dirty deed yet?" Ginny asked.

"Gin!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked and blushing.

"Oh c'mon. It's been ages since we've had a girly talk!"

"True," Hermione said, "I've missed them. And, to answer your question, no. We haven't."

"Really?" Ginny asked, sounding shocked, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, embarrassed, "Why – have you and Harry?"

Ginny turned on the bed and crossed her legs, facing Hermione before she answered, "Yeah, ages ago. But I've had a bit more experience than Harry, so I guess I was kind of… the instructor."

The girls giggled at that and Hermione wondered how long ago "ages" was. She knew that she and Ron had more important things to worry about over the past few weeks – Ron's grief and her own problem, and they had been progressing slowly. Hermione felt a small pang of jealousy that Ginny and Harry had been able to fine enough time together, uninterrupted, to take that final step she so badly wanted to take with Ron. But she was comfortable in the knowledge that when it did happen, she would have absolutely no doubts, and it would be beyond special.

OoOoO

That night, Ron led Hermione back to their room and watched with a racing heart as she enlarged his bed and transfigured hers into a chair, stowing it in the corner and making more room. She turned to him, a small smile on her face and cheeks glowing, and he breathed deeply. He kissed her on the forehead and took her hand, leading her over to the place where they'd both be spending the night.

"Uh… which side would you like?" he asked, his own voice sounding slightly foreign to him, his throat constricted with nerves.

"This side's fine," she whispered, clearly as nervous as he was.

Letting her hand drop, he shuffled across until he reached the wall but remained sitting up. She laughed and absently ran her fingers through her hair before jumping in to join him, giving him a warm hug before laying down, not facing him. Ron understood, aligning his front and her back and snaking one arm tentatively over her waist. When she shuffled backwards slightly to leave no space between them, Ron finally felt himself relax. Hermione, his talented, beautiful girlfriend, was sleeping in his bed, beside him. He grinned with pure joy and hugged her a little tighter, noticing that she turned her head slightly to look at him, grinning just as widely as he was.

"Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight Ron. I love you."

"I love you too."

**Next chapter feat. Bill and Fleur will be up ASAP! Also, I am completely stumped as to what Charlie could do, so if any of you lovely readers out there have **_**any**_** ideas, please let me know! Thank you xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you so much for sticking with me, having not posted a chapter in an age. Prepare yourselves for angst – almost entirely concentrating on Ron and Hermione. The angst is almost unbearable – I apologise, but it somehow was all that wanted to come out of me at present. I'll try to make the next chapter more upbeat.**

**Let me know what you think, and a special thank you to **_rhmac12_ **for the support and messages of late, encouraging me to get this chapter up for you guys! xxx**

Ron awoke when the dim sunlight wormed its way across the room and into his eyes. In the night Hermione must have rolled over because she slept facing him, one hand under their pillow and the other resting on his chest. He dimly recalled that she had stirred in the night, whimpered slightly in her dream but settled quickly, quieting when he stroked the hair back from her forehead and whispered to her. But for now she was so peaceful, completely and utterly his. He gently traced the scar on her neck where Bellatrix had held her knife to her throat, a testament to how strong Hermione really was, and continued to be.

He was so proud of everything they had achieved as a family over the past few weeks. They'd all come a long way and he could hardly believe it had all happened in such a short space of time. He knew Hermione would be fine now, and a small part of him was selfishly proud of the fact that it had been all his idea to begin with. They were coming to the end of the days Hermione would spend with each member of the family – Bill and Fleur were today, Charlie in a few days time when he came back from Romania for a visit. He'd been doing so frequently since the war – Ron hadn't decided yet whether it was guilt over his lack of previous visits, his need to be with his family after the loss of a brother and Tonks, or a combination of both.

He already had a strong suspicion of what Bill and Fleur would be doing with Hermione today – they would take her back to Shell Cottage, where some of her – and his – worst fears were realised, and where she had faced them all to continue pursuing their goal. They would explain exactly how helpless she was when Ron had carried her into the house, and how she had fought to hold onto life and sanity, and come out the other side. He knew this would be a tough day for her, and he might bear the brunt of it when she returned, but he had timed it so he knew she was strong enough for this one. And if he had to deal with Hermione when she was upset, reliving those moments, he was prepared for that – that's what he was here for.

For now he just took the opportunity to look at her, how the light danced in her fluffy hair and how her cheeks were slightly pink from the warmth they were generating. How her lips were slightly pouted in sleep and when he ran his thumb over them they fell open slightly and her nose crinkled. He felt as though there was a balloon in his chest gradually expanding to the point where it was slightly hard to breathe. And it felt wonderful.

OoOoO

Hermione had woken to find Ron staring at her. She always thought as a little girl, or even when she was at Hogwarts, that anyone watching someone else sleep was simply creepy, but now it seemed, she didn't mind so much. That sweet smile on his face and the still-sleepy look in his eye made her blush and wonder just how long he'd been awake looking at her. And for once in her life she hoped she looked pretty when she slept. Her next thought was what today would bring.

And as soon as they apparated onto that beach, she knew. She knew what Bill and Fleur meant when they told her this day might be a little hard. Hermione felt her heart throw itself against her ribcage as she thought to herself, a _little_ hard? It was going to be a lot harder than simply a little. She knew why they were doing this – to make her realise that if she got through that night, those moments of absolutely indescribable pain, she could get through anything. But she didn't know if she was up for this – she'd been feeling so good lately she didn't want to be pulled down from that high; not now. Hermione wished Ron was here. She would cope better with him around. But it was like he'd told her this morning; as much as he wanted to be, he couldn't always be there. He was only an apparition away if she wanted him, but she was strong enough to do things on her own now. It made her feel good, knowing he believed in her strength and her ability to stay that strong, but she was still unsure. Maybe a little too dependent, she thought.

Bill ushered Hermione inside and she followed Fleur into the kitchen, where a fresh vase of wildflowers sat on the table. The welcoming feel of the place wouldn't help shake that sense of foreboding she felt in her chest. Fleur set down a plate of biscuits and turned to get a pot of tea ready, and Hermione couldn't even bring herself to offer assistance. She already felt numb.

OoOoO

Ron vividly remembered that night at the Manor. He remembered Greyback's foul breath stirring Hermione's beautiful hair and wanting to hit him until breathing wasn't even possible anymore. When he and Harry were locked in the cellar, his imagination, combined with Hermione's silence, were driving him insane. What if that… thing, was doing stuff to her up there? What if after Bellatrix had finished interrogating her, she handed Hermione over to him and all the other Snatchers, as a little reward? Ron remembered taking the skin off his fingertips from frantically searching the walls for a secret door, a hole, anything that would let him get back to Hermione and save her. And when he didn't find anything and his legs were almost giving out from under him, he knelt on the floor and fixed his eyes on the ceiling, willing her to be alright.

When Hermione's screams cut through the air Ron could hardly stand it. Yelling back to her, he resumed his search of the walls, even trying to force the bars of the door open in his desperation. They were hurting her, he could tell. They were tearing her apart and he'd never be able to see her again and tell her that he loved her, had loved her since the first time he saw her. The tears made tracks in the grime coating his cheeks as he yelled, pleading with them to stop, and screaming out to her over and over when she fell silent. He was hardly even aware that there were four other people in the cellar with him, one searching just as hard for a way out. In his mind, it was just him and Hermione, and he could feel her fading – he could feel himself losing her.

When Dobby arrived Ron felt as though they'd been there for hours, with Hermione still above them. Charging up the stairs he didn't give attacking them a second thought when he saw her lifeless form on the floor. He wanted to hurt them, especially that foul bitch that had done this all to her. He tried to stop the tears when Bellatrix held the knife to her precious throat, but they flowed freely down his cheeks as he struggled to free her from beneath the fallen chandelier. He didn't have time to feel for her pulse as he brought her to his chest and shielded him as much as he could with his body. At that moment, he didn't care what they did to him, as long as he could somehow get her away from this place. But they'd both made it to Shell Cottage, and it was only when he bent and heard her shallow breaths that he could let his own sob of relief escape.

Back in his room, Ron realised that his cheeks were wet and his chest was heaving. He'd somehow ended up kneeling beside his bed, the sheets bunched in his fists and the fabric beneath him wet from tears. In the time he'd been thinking about that night, the clouds had thickened and rain had begun to fall on the roof above him. Groaning to himself, he hoped Hermione was coping better than he was.

OoOoO

"You were so brave, Hermione," Bill said, "Asking about everyone else's wellbeing even when you were barely conscious yourself."

"No one could 'ave imagined ze pain you were suffering," Fleur said with tears in her eyes, "But you did not complain, even when Ron 'ad to bathe your wounds."

Hermione looked up sharply at this. She had no recollection of Ron – or anyone else, for that matter – tending to her that night, and she made a mental note to ask him about it later. Letting her eyes drift again, she was only dimly aware of Bill and Fleur's praise. She was thinking about Ron screaming for her from the cellar that night, wanting so desperately to call back to him. The look of pure rage on his face as he bounded up the stairs with Harry, and his ragged breathing as Bellatrix forced that dagger to her throat. After that, the only thing she could remember was waking up in Shell Cottage to find Dobby dead and that awful word etched into her arm.

Looking out of the window, she noticed the rain had begun to fall in earnest, the storm that was out to sea only an hour ago quickly spreading inland. Every now and again lightning would strike somewhere distant, lighting up the beach and the churning waves so close to where she sat.

OoOoO

Hermione hadn't come home yet. She hadn't come back to him, and he was worried. She'd been out for hours, and even though he knew Bill and Fleur would keep her safe, his teeth stayed gritted and he kept on pacing. Back and forth in his room so many times that he thought he'd wear a track into the floor with his quick-paced footsteps.

He only stopped when he heard the crack of her apparating right behind him, and her ragged breathing. Whirling on the spot, he faced her back, which was visibly shaking.

"… 'Mione?"

"Why?" she yelled, spinning quickly on the spot to face him as thunder cracked the sky, "Why did it have to be me?"

Ron didn't say anything, just stood there and watched as the tears welled in her eyes and she fisted her hands at her sides.

"Why did she pick me – why didn't she pick the goblin?" Hermione took a step toward him as she yelled it, her voice increasing slightly in pitch, wavering.

_She didn't mean that._

Again, Ron said nothing as Hermione continued to advance, now only arm's length away. He wanted to touch her, to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he knew she needed to get this all out now.

"Because I am the lowest of the low, that's why!" she screamed over the sound of the rain pounding against the glass.

_She didn't mean that either. She couldn't mean that._

"She. Broke. Me." Hermione yelled, punctuating each word with a hard hit to Ron's chest, her fists connecting simultaneously and almost knocking him backwards.

"She made me want to die!"

More punching.

"How can anyone _do that_?"

"How could she?"

Hermione's voice had now receded to a whisper and Ron could tell her energy and anger was quickly fading into something a little more manageable. She swayed slightly on her feet and Ron inched closer to her, noticing that Hermione made no move to get away from him. When she swayed again Ron put both hands on her waist and felt her transfer her weight onto him. Lowering both of them to the ground, he rearranged Hermione so that she was sitting comfortably across his lap. While he moved her legs he felt her hands slither up to tighten around his neck. Her first sob escaped and she turned her face into his shoulder, chest heaving, as thunder rumbled directly above them.

It was after minutes of him attempting to soothe her that she spoke again.

"You never told me about that night," Hermione whispered into his neck, "Fleur said you bathed my wounds."

"I didn't think you'd ever want to hear about it again," he whispered in reply, "That's why I knew today would be awful. But Bill and Fleur seemed to think it would be a good thing."

"It probably was. Just… hard, is all."

Ron took a breath and ran his fingers through her hair before continuing, "But yes, I cleaned your wounds. I was… I was the only one you wanted touching you."

"I'm surprised Fleur let you stay," Hermione said.

"The first time she tried to Dittany your wounds, you hit her. And then Bill tried and you just screamed and put your arms out to me. So I came over and took the Dittany off Bill and gave it a try… and you wouldn't let me go."

"I thought I'd lost you," Hermione whispered, another tear escaping onto his neck, "I thought I'd lost you before I'd even told you how I felt."

Ron felt tears gather behind his eyes as he responded, "Me too. I was so scared I'd given up all my chances."

"I'm so glad I've got you now," Hermione said, her voice still shaking, "Because I want it to be this way from now on."

"I promise," Ron whispered, rocking them back and forth slightly, "You and me."

"You and me," she echoed, almost silently.

**As I said, sorry for the angst and let me know what you thought. If it's desperately bad I will attempt a rewrite. Anything for you guys! xx**


	12. Chapter 12

**SORRYYYYYYYYYYYY. Here it is. Thanks to my most avid reader for helping me along with getting this chapter written (you know who you are!) and APOLOGIES to XoXMountainGirlxoX for not writing Bill into this chapter – I started another section but thought it would be better as a separate part, to give him a bit more involvement. He will reappear in chapter 13, I promise! :)**

**I will try to put another chapter up soon, but I'll be honest, it may not be until after I finish finals in mid-November. However, having already started the new chapter with my Bill-section, there could be another instalment up before then. In the meantime, feel free to pester me to keep me motivated to write for you guys.**

**Enjoy, and as always, I'd love to hear what you all think :D I hope you're all well! xx**

Harry and Ron had spent the morning sitting in the garden, enjoying the sun and flinging a stray gnome over the hedge if they happened to wander past, crouching low and attempting not to be noticed by the two boys. When Hermione's scream split the air, Ron was on his feet and running to the house before Harry had even comprehended what was going on. Ron skidded through the door and quickly noticed the glass sprayed across the floor and Hermione with a hand over her mouth, standing over someone. He was at her side in an instant.

"What happened?! What's wrong? Are you hurt?" were the questions he hurled at her in quick succession.

"Oh, I'm fine. Bloody George," she said, indicating to the form on the floor beneath her, "Jumped out from behind the pantry door and very nearly scared me to death!"

Ron glanced down and looked at his brother, kneeling to see if he was okay.

"So I stunned him," Hermione said, some worry creeping into her voice, "It's become somewhat of a reflex, I guess."

Hermione took a place on George's other side and together they helped him into a sitting position as Harry hurried in. When George's eyes had opened fully he looked at Hermione's concerned expression and doubled over with laughter, tears in his eyes.

"Bloody hell woman!" he gasped, "Just a bit of harmless fun and you bloody Stupefy me!"

Knowing that his brother would be fine, Ron stood to relieve the pain gathering behind his knees. Turning his back on George and Hermione, he repaired the two glasses still scattered on the floor with a wave of his wand before replacing it in his pocket. Noticing the pair of shearing scissors on the table and realising his mother was no longer in the room, a smile flickered across his face.

"Charlie's here," he said, glancing back.

"And my hair's already gone," came a gravelly voice from the doorway leading to the living room, causing the four of them to look up.

Charlie's hair had certainly been tamed, the quick work of Molly, no doubt. He looked as muscular as ever, and Ron and George both towered over him. The smile on his tanned face was genuine, if a little empty. Still, he came forward and offered a hand to George, pulling him up and engulfing him in a brotherly embrace. He did the same with Ron before turning to shake Harry's hand and to kiss Hermione on the cheek.

"It's good to see you all, but I'm lead to understand I'll be seeing one person in particular today," he said, looking at Hermione with raised brows.

"So I've been told," Hermione replied.

OoOoO

Charlie led Hermione into the backyard to find a comfortable spot on the grass. Hermione glanced over and noticed that despite his earlier cheer, the oldest Weasley brother had let his shoulders hunch and his eyes become vacant. She could count the number of times she had met him on one hand, and wasn't sure how he would be able to help her today without spending half of it getting to know her. But she was grateful enough that he had, as a member of the family, offered to spend a day with her, just like the others.

"As much as I would absolutely love to talk about my problems," Hermione said sarcastically, "Why don't we talk about you?"

Charlie glanced up at her sadly before returning to the inspection of his hands, saying, "In order to talk about you, I had to share my story anyway."

"Go ahead then."

Charlie let out a heavy sigh before laying back on the grass, grow corrugated while he watched the clouds pass by.

"Tonks was in my year at school," he began, "But I'm sure you already knew that. What you probably didn't know was that I was madly in love with her."

"I know," he continued, noticing Hermione's quick blank expression, "Most people think I'm gay. I know what they say. It's because I never found anyone else like her. She's the reason I went to Romania in the first place – we dated for a while towards the end of school, and I thought we'd end up together. But one night in the summer break at her place, before our last year at Hogwarts, we fought. About something so insignificant I don't even remember it anymore."

Here, Charlie paused to wipe his eyes on his sleeve, and Hermione found she couldn't look away.

He cleared his throat loudly and resumed, "And we both got mad – she and I both had tempers, you see. And then… I hit her. Slapped her across the face, hard enough to leave a bruise. She told me to leave, and I did. She didn't talk to me for the whole final year of school, and I didn't blame her. I didn't even care that I was made Quidditch Captain and we would have had a blinder of a season if I wasn't so preoccupied thinking about the thing I wish I'd never done. I finished off at Hogwarts and left to the furthest place I could think of with the largest amount of dragons as soon as I could. I hated myself, and always have, for letting my temper get the better of me."

Charlie stopped again, taking a shuddering breath, which allowed Hermione to wipe her eyes.

"You're now the only person I've ever told this story to. I was too ashamed to tell anyone else why I really left so quickly."

"You never spoke to her again?" Hermione whispered.

"I wrote to her, often, to tell her how sorry I was and how much I cared for her. She eventually wrote back with forgiveness, which I would never have expected, but her replies were always… short. We were never close again. And then when I came back for the wedding, we talked, but not much."

"And there was Professor Lupin," said Hermione, her heart breaking for him.

"The better man always wins in the end, Hermione," he said with a grim smile, "Remus was a good guy, and she deserved that. I was even happy to hear about the baby. But when I saw her body… it felt like that night all over again, but a thousand times worse."

There was a moment of silence before he whispered, "I just miss her so much."

Hermione let out a shaky breath, taking in the sight before her. It reminded her so strongly of Ron in the days following Fred's death. Ron and Charlie were similar in other ways too – the temper that she'd just been hearing about was in the youngest Weasley son, but she knew that Ron only ever expressed his in words, and even that was getting better since they'd become an official couple. Despite Charlie's story, she knew that Ron would never hurt her – they'd known each other for so many years and he'd never even come close. Even on the Horcrux hunt, he'd only shown intention to hurt Harry, the night he left. And Hermione knew that was the locket's influence. Maybe she was being naïve, but that was love, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry Charlie," she whispered back, trying to think of something better to say, something that would bring a bit more comfort to him.

"It's alright, Hermione," he responded, "I did tell you this story for a reason, believe it or not. There's a message here that I think's really important for you. _You must not let your past dictate your future._ I did, and it's rendered me unhappy for most of my life. And I know what happened to you was a lot more significant than what happened to me, but you need to take it to heart."

"I don't think what happened to you is any less significant, Charlie," Hermione said with confidence, "It's just different."

Charlie reached across to squeeze her hand slightly as he said, "Thank you, Hermione."

There was a pause before he spoke again, "Now I want you to tell me exactly what happened at Malfoy Manor that night."

Hermione was taken aback. Of all the other Weasley family members she had spent the day with, she had never had to retell the story of her torture – sure, she'd heard about it from Bill and Fleur, or the aftermath anyway, but she had easily tuned them out. And look at the effect that experience had had on her. She'd been furious and upset, beside herself.

As if reading all of these thoughts in her expression, Charlie said, "I know it hurts Hermione. I know you haven't told anyone else before – I asked Mum while she was cutting my hair this morning, and that woman knows everything. I think it's about time you told someone about it that wasn't there. Don't do it, Hermione – don't let your past dictate your future."

Hermione nodded and slowly brushed her hair back from her face. And then she began. She couldn't tell if Charlie was even listening at some points, because he remained on the grass, eyes closed, unmoving. But she told him anyway – how they had been outrun by the Snatchers, how the sword had been discovered, and the torture. The relentless, unforgiving pain, and Ron's screaming. She told him everything, and not in the dead monotone she had responded to Bill and Fleur in – she let herself be sad, angry and grateful all at once. When she'd finished, ending with the story Ron had told her about bathing her wounds, Charlie opened his eyes with an extended sigh. He really was the most ambiguous Weasley she'd ever met.

"That was bloody awful, Hermione," he said, taking her hand, "But I'm glad you told me."

"Me too," whispered Hermione, looking at the ground.

"Right, I won't spread your story around if you don't spread mine," Charlie said, standing up and stretching his back, "Lunch?"

Definitely the most ambiguous Weasley she'd ever met, she thought again to herself as he helped her up and they walked inside.

OoOoO

Returning to the kitchen, Charlie set about helping Molly prepare lunch. When Hermione asked Harry where Ron had got to, he told her he'd just had a shower and was in his room. Thanking him, she raced up the stairs and peaked through his door, which stood ajar. Ron, clad only in a pair of jeans, was lying face down on his bed. His hair was still wet and tiny beads of water had worked their way down onto his broad freckled shoulders. Smiling, Hermione kicked off her shoes as she crossed the room and lay down beside him, the bed remaining enlarged for the two of them from the night before.

She kissed his shoulder and whispered, "Hey there."

Turning his head to face her and using a bare arm to pull her closer, he smiled and kissed her lingeringly on the lips.

"Good day?" he asked.

"Interesting," Hermione answered, "Charlie has to be the most confusing member of your family I've ever met."

Ron chuckled and said, "He's a bit harder to read than the rest of us, I'll give you that."

"Mmmm," Hermione said, nudging Ron's nose with her own, "Anyway, I don't want to talk about Charlie. Lunch isn't going to be long and I haven't seen you in hours."

"Sounds like a better offer to me," Ron smirked, kissing her.

Hermione allowed herself a little sigh of satisfaction as Ron's tongue outlined the seam of her lips and she allowed him to enter. He turned to be on his side without breaking the kiss, and the hand that had been slung loosely around her now constricted to pull her flush against him. Feeling brave, she slid her leg between his and intertwined them, pulling herself closer. Ron used this as leverage to flip her on her back, rolling on top of her and supporting his weight with one forearm beside her head. Pausing to look down at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, he smiled and pushed their hips together slowly, loving the moan that escaped her lips.

Almost lazily, his lips made their way down her throat, feeling the vibrations she made with each moan and call of his name. He dipped his tongue into the dip of her collarbone, tasting the few stray beads of sweat there from her morning in the sun as well as their activities. She tugged his head back up to her own and kissed him deeply, reaching down between them to run her nails lightly over his skin, making him shiver. Moving to sit over her, he kept his gaze locked with hers as his fingers slipped the buttons on her shirt through their holes. Hermione didn't look away, but strained her chest upward, as though begging him, trying to make him move a little faster, her breath already short and hot on his face.

When her shirt was off, he traced the outline of her bra across the expanse of her chest with dancing fingers. Her shaky breath and the way she clutched and fisted the sheet beneath her was making him feel harder by the second. Suddenly she was struggling to prop herself up on her elbows, with Ron still straddling her hips. The increased contact made him groan and he reached down to kiss her again, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and biting down softly.

"Ron," Hermione whispered hoarsely when he'd finished, "That makes it… really hard to get my bra off. When you do that."

Her slow and confused voice reminded him of the way she had lost control the other day and he cast up a silent prayer that she was about to do the same again.

"Sorry," he mumbled against her lips, pulling away reluctantly.

She reached behind her and managed to undo the clasp, pulling the straps slowly down her arms and watching his eyes get darker and his hands reach out slightly before seeking confirmation in her eyes. She mused at how gentlemanly it was that he still wanted her permission to do things to her when clearly she was dying for him to do just that. The look in her eyes must have been enough, because she closed her eyes as one hand tenderly cupped one breast and his mouth captured another. His tongue worked quick circles over her nipple and she groaned softly and threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair.

Suddenly, Ron felt the button on his jeans pop open and he momentarily removed his mouth from Hermione's breast to look down.

"What'cha doing?" he asked with a laugh in his voice, returning his attention to her other breast.

"Taking off your pants," Hermione stated, seeming to have very little trouble answering this particular question while engaged in other activities.

"Mmmm," Ron said against her, moving his hand down to slip her shorts off her hips, copying her movements.

Sitting up again, he had to slide off to one side this time to remove his jeans and help her get her shorts over her dainty feet. Pausing for a moment, he let his eyes wander up her figure, starting at her chubby little toes, passing over her plain black knickers, over her flat smooth stomach to her pert breasts. He reached her eyes to find her studying him in the same way.

"I love you, Ron," she said, reaching out for him.

"I love you too. Always, Hermione," he responded.

"I know," she responded, "So enough mushy stuff, let's get back to the funny business."

With that, she swung one leg over his waist and positioned herself directly over him, letting her full weight settle along his length. The contact was exquisite and neither Ron nor Hermione remembered it feeling this good in the pond.

"Holy fucking shit Hermione," Ron groaned, "I don't know if we should be doing this."

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, she made sure to press their chest together as she said, "Why not Ron? We've still got… some clothes on."

If the half groan, half growl that came out of Ron's mouth was anything to go by, Hermione thought she had convinced him. Reaching one hand up to her breast and using the other to grip her waist tightly, Ron thrust into her. With only a few thin layers of cotton separating them, he could imagine just how she would really feel, and just that thought was enough to almost send him over the edge. She leant down to bring their lips together in yet another heated kiss and they moved their hips together, over and over, slowly at first and then erratically as both were drawn closer to the brink. They arrived almost simultaneously, Hermione tossing her head back, allowing her hair to flow over her shoulders, and Ron thrusting his head backwards into the pillow, trying to keep his eyes open to take in the magnificent sight before him.

"Merlin," Hermione whispered, looking down at him.

"You can say that again," Ron responded, kissing her tenderly on the palm.

"Fuck!"

"Alright 'Mione, I know I'm great," Ron teased, "But you don't have to get that worked up."

Hermione lay herself completely flat against him, looking up and whispering, "No, you stupid prat. I didn't put up any wards, so unless you did…"

"Buggering shit!" Ron exclaimed, almost throwing her off him in his haste to reach his wand on the bedside table, almost flinging it at the door as he cast silencing and locking charms.

"A little late, don't you think?" Hermione said, a hint of laugher creeping into her voice.

"True, but at least we can now get ourselves fixed up without anyone walking in," he said, putting a hand to his face, "It's a wonder no one came up here looking for us in the middle of that."

"I really hope they didn't," she said, sitting up and biting her lip.

"'Mione, let's look at this logically," he responded, tugging her bottom lip out from under her tooth gently, "If it had been any of them, they would have either yelled, laughed or screamed in shock. I mean, I know we were getting pretty… involved, there, but don't you think one of us would have noticed that?"

Hermione thought it over before responding, "You're probably right. And I'm ashamed – I'm not even embarrassed!"

Ron laughed and kissed her before his face turned serious.

"I should have thought it of the charms, Hermione. And I'm sorry. It was disrespectful of me."

"Don't be silly Ron," she said gently, "It wasn't your fault at all. I was the one who initiated the whole thing. I was… well, planning it, on my way up the stairs!"

Ron smirked before he said, "I should leave you alone to plan more often then, shouldn't I?"


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is dedicated to **XoxMountainGirlxox **because this whole chapter was her fantastic idea. I hope you all enjoy it, I know there's hardly any Ron/Hermione but I think it really shows the brotherly bond between Bill and Charlie, and I enjoyed writing it. Sorry it's a little short though!**

**Also, I am officially on a 3 month break now finals are over, so YAY writing! :D I feel as though this fic may only have one more chapter in it though? It'll be a long one, but this is my feeling at present. But never fear, another fic is already underway and in the pipeline!**

**As always, I hope you lovely people are all well, and let me know what you think :) xx**

Walking down to lunch hand in hand, Hermione quickly glanced around at the faces before her and noticed no one glancing their way with a horrified or highly amused expression. Knowing George's poker face she kept her eye on him for a bit longer but decided that, mercifully, no one had been at Ron's end of the house when he and Hermione were alone earlier. Ron, who had really managed to work up an appetite, wolfed down his food while keeping one hand firmly on Hermione's leg, squeezing it every now and again and only serving to remind her more strongly of what they had been doing not half an hour ago.

Hermione could only pick at her food, the hand on her leg providing quite the distraction. Every now and again she was glance over at the boy next to her, not even comprehending the fire he was fuelling within her and the tingly feelings he was creating in her chest. His flaming hair was falling into his eyes as he bent over his plate, glancing up every now and again to smirk or shoot off a smart comment to George or Ginny. Hermione barely noticed when the conversation around her faded into the background, simply laughing when Ron did, because she was enthralled by him.

OoOoO

Charlie found Bill in the living room, a cup of coffee nestled in his cupped hands and a relaxed expression gracing his scarred face. The light slanting across the room diminished the scars somewhat, and he could clearly see the man Bill was, once. Charlie grimaced inwardly at the prospect of disturbing him before clearing his throat from the doorway.

"Can I join you?" he asked gruffly, "I've got some things I need to… talk to you about."

"Sure, Charlie," Bill responded, turning on the couch so that he would be facing his brother once he sat down.

The two of them, being considerably older, had always been good friends as well as brothers, and Charlie had missed Bill when he moved away. They owled each other every week, and Charlie had been humbled when he had asked him to be the best man at his wedding. Even the thought of facing Tonks wouldn't have drawn a refusal from him. Charlie watched Bill marry the woman he loved without the slightest jealousy for not being in the same situation with a certain other witch, and only let his loneliness return as he watched Remus dance with Tonks during the celebrations. Drawing himself out of his reverie, Charlie realised that reminiscing was not the reason for him seeking out his brother.

"I never realised things were so bad," he burst out, causing Bill to jump and even startling himself slightly.

"Never realised_ what_ was that bad?" Bill asked, placing his mug on the table in front of him.

"Everything! Voldemort, life here. I knew the disturbance at the wedding was a nasty one so I assumed things were getting worse again, the way Mum and Dad used to talk about? So I wrote you – I even tried to Floo here or to your place when I didn't get a response and I couldn't get through. I was going out of my mind wondering what the hell was going on!"

"It was bad," Bill said, "And it started to go that way a long time before the wedding. I… I knew I couldn't write you about it without getting caught, so I figured after the wedding..."

"But then the attack happened," Charlie finished for him, rubbing a hand across his face with a sigh, "And I had to get the hell back to Romania. I keep thinking… if I'd just stayed, or been sensible enough to realise that it was just the beginning, things… would have been different."

"It's not your fault, Charlie," Bill said seriously, "Who knows if that's true or not? If you'd stayed, you could never have stopped Tonks and Remus and Fred and all the others from dying. You were there, fighting with us! And you did a lot of recruiting for us back in Romania."

"I… I dunno Bill," he responded with doubt, "I heard Hermione's story today – the full version – and I've never heard of someone so young going through that much and coming out the other side sane. Surely… surely I could have done something more."

Bill sighed and shook his head before saying, "I'll tell you something Charlie. No one knew what Ron and Harry and Hermione were doing for all that time. They've never said, and I don't think they ever will. The only thing we really know about what happened is that Hermione got tortured, and I think you're the first person to even get _that_ full story."

There was silence for a moment before Bill said softly, "There was nothing more anyone could do, mate. What's done is done."

Charlie's mouth quirked at one corner as he thought of the advice he had given Hermione earlier that day, and the irony of this conversation in light of it. That half-smile quickly faded, and he felt bitter tears sting his eyes as he rested his forehead on his palms. For a while they just sat there, taking shaky breaths as they recalled the past few years and the hardships their family had faced together. They remembered brighter days when they would joust with tables out the front of the house, Molly yelling when they got too excited with their competition and the legs broke off. How Arthur's lips would raise in a secret smile before he scolded them half-heartedly to please his wife, kissing her on the cheek on his way back into the house.

"Something bad happened between you and Tonks, didn't it?" Bill asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled between them, "That's why you left."

"Who told you?" Charlie asked him.

"You just did," Bill responded with a sad smile, "You want to tell me what?"

Charlie sighed and tried to fight the feeling of tightness enveloping his chest, saying, "You might hate me if I do."

"No matter what you've done in the past Charlie," Bill said, pinning him with his gaze, "You will always be my brother – a good brother, and a good man."

Charlie felt the sweat break out across his top lip and felt tears gather behind his eyes before he said, "I… hit her. Only once. Not that there should be an "only", because I mean, any hitting is bad and I –"

"I know what you mean Charlie," Bill said comfortingly.

"I would have expected you to be yelling by now," Charlie said, his throat still constricted.

Bill sighed and said, "But I'm not, because I know it's impossible to make you feel worse about this than you already do. And I already know you never have, and never will, do the same thing again."

"Did you know?" Charlie asked him, roughly pawing away a stray tear.

"I kind of knew something. I guess Mum would call that intuition."

Charlie chuckled at that, before he requested, "Please don't tell anyone."

"You know I won't," Bill said, "But I think we both know it's time you came home. Permanently."

At this Charlie let out a booming laugh, "Now are you _sure_ you're not practiced at Legilimency?"

"If you were still happy over there working with dragons and what-not, then why in the name of Merlin's saggy left would you be coming home almost every fortnight?"

"You got the brains brother, I tell ya," Charlie said.

"Then come the hell home. We all miss you – me especially. You can stay with me and Fleur until you find a place, and I hear Hogwarts is looking for a Care of Magical Creatures professor – Hagrid says he's more than happy to go back to the way things were before."

"Aren't we all?" Charlie asked with a grim smile, before standing and turning to his brother, "Thank you, Bill. I don't know what I'd do without you mate."

Bill stood too and embraced his brother, responding, "Don't mention it. I love you."

"I love you too."


	14. Author's Note

Hi there my gorgeous readers. Again, another Author's Note to tell you how sorry I am another chapter is not up as of yet. I haven't had access to my computer in a few weeks and I am using every chance I get to write the chapter, and I have not forgotten the story or all you lovelies. It is on its way, I promise. Stay tuned! xx


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